





1*0 "5 



. ... 



A^ 









, -f -P 



^ 


















































%_ 
























+± 
























c£* 









» ~ 



RHETORICAL READER; 

CONSISTING OF 

INSTRUCTIONS FOR REGULATING THE VOICE, 

WITH A 

RHETORICAL NOTATION, 

Il^LUSTHATIiVg INFLECTION, EMPHASIS, AND MODULATION; 
AND A COURSE OF 

RHETORICAL EXERCISES. 

DESIGNED FOR THE USE OF ACADEMIES AND HIG H- SCHOOLS. 



BY EBENEZER PORTER, D. D. 

Late President of the Theological Seminary, Andover. 



One Hundredth. Edition, with, an Appendix. 



NEW YORK: 
PUBLISHED BY DAYTON & SAXTON, 

SCHOOL BOOK PUBLISHERS, 
Corner of Pulton and Nassau streets. 



Allen, Morrill & Wardwell, Printers, Andover. 

1841. 



p^s 



Entered, 

According to the Act of Congress, in the year 1835^ by 

FLAGG & GOULD 

In the Clerk's office of the District Court of Massachusetts 

"J*4* •* MicL 



STEREOTYPED 1 Y F. P. KIT-LEY, 



PREFACE. 

Though for many years after I began to investigate the 
principles of rhetorical delivery, I had no intention of writing 
any thing on the subject for publication, I was at last drawn 
into this measure, gradually and almost unavoidably. The 
bad habits in elocution, acquired by many educated young 
men, and' con armed, with little regard to consequences, as 
they passed from one stage of education to another, it was 
easy to see mast become at once equally conspicuous and 
injurious, so soon as they should pass from academical life 
into a public profession in which good speaking is a prime in- 
strument of usefulness. The last Seminary too which had 
them m charge, would, by a misapprehension not very un- 
natural, be made responsible, not merely for its own propor- 
tion, out for the whole of these defects. The only remedy 
for habits thus firmly established, obviously must lie in a 
patient, elementary process, adapted to form new habits. 
After a sufficient experiment to satisfy me that Walker's 
elements, as a text book, could not answer this purpose, I 
prepared a course of Lectures on the subject. One of these, 
"on Vocal Inflections," I consented to print, at the request 
and for the use of the Theological Students, to whom it had 
been read ; but without any intention that it should be pub- 
lished. The pamphlet, however, went abroad, and led to 
applications from respectable gentlemen, connected with col 
leges and other literary institutions, that I would prepare a 
book of the same description, to be used in this department of 
a liberal education. Accordingly I did prepare the " Anal- 
ysis of Rhetorical Delivery." 

The preparation of that work, my own use of it as a 
Teacher, and the testimony of others, who had used it, con- 



V PREFACE. 

vinced me, soon after its publication, that the chief princi 
pies it contains may be understood and applied by pupils 
much younger than those I had originally contemplated. 
Teachers of Academies and High Schools, who professed to 
have derived much assistance from the Analysis, urged me 
to prepare a cheaper book, on the same plan, adapted to the 
use of their pupils. This I promised to do, should health and 
engagements permit ; but the execution has been delayed, 
as involving a sacrifice of the time which I earnestly wished 
to devote to the more appropriate and sacred duties of my of- 
fice ; and had not one branch of these duties rendered me 
necessarily familiar with the general subject of this volume, 
the purpose must have been relinquished. 

I have been the more cheerful, however, in this under- 
taking, from a full conviction that whatever is accomplished 
on this subject, in classical schools, is a clear gain to profes- 
sional education for the pulpit. To no possible case, more 
than to this, is the maxim applicable, " Prevention is easier 
than cure." Faults which almost defy correction, might 
easily have been avoided by skill and pains in forming the 
early habits. 

I am aware that there is already an ample supply of books, 
which furnish excellent reading lessons, without professing to 
give any instruction in the art of reading. But the want of 
an elementary book, for common use, in which the principles 
of this art should be laid down, with Rhetorical Exercises, 
se»ected expressly to illustrate these principles, has been ex- 
tensively felt as a great deficiency. The Rhetorical Read- 
er is intended to supply this deficiency. The first third of 
its matter, is an abridgement of the Analysis, though with 
new discussion and elucidation of some important principles 
which will be found chiefly under the articles, Reading, — 
Emphatic Inflection, — Quantity, — and Compass of Voice. 
In respect to about two thirds of its contents, the book is 
new; including the original matter just mentioned, and a 



PREFACE. V 

new selection of exercises for Part II. This selection has 
been made with much care and from an extensive range of 
writers, British and American. In making it, regard has 
been paid, first to the moral sentiment of the pieces, as suit- 
ed to make a safe and useful impression on the young ; next 
to that rhetorical execution which may elevate their taste ; 
and finally, to such variety and vivacity, in the subjects and 
kinds of composition, as may sustain a undiminished inter 
est throughout. 

To attain brevity in each Exercise, the connexion of the 
writer has sometimes been broken by omissions longer or 
shorter, without notice ; the mention of which fact in this 
manner, I hope may be sufficient, without further apology. 

A word of explanation is necessary on another point. It 
was my intention to include in the Exercises, Part II. a 
greater proportion of extracts from the Bible, than I have 
done in Part I. ; both because I think it furnishes many of 
the best lessons for rhetorical reading; and because the 
book which, more than all others, is adapted to promote the 
sanctiflcation and salvation of the young, has been too much 
neglected in all departments of education. But as I wished 
to make this selection, not for the young merely, but also with 
a special view to those who are called to read the Bible as 
heads of families, or still more publicly, as preachers of the 
gospel, sufficient room for it could not be found in the present 
volume. I therefure concluded to defer this part of my plan, 
with the hope that I may compile a separate collection of 
Biblical Exercises, of perhaps 150 pages, to which a 
rhetorical notation will be applied, and which may be a proper 
sequel both to the Analysis, and Rhetorical Reader. 

Should this little book be found useful in advancing the 
interests of Christian Education, the best wishes of its author 
will be answered. 

E. PORTER. 



Theological Seminary, 
Andover, May 1831. 



1* 



REMARKS TO TEACHERS. 

To those who may use this book, I have thought it proper 
t: make the following preparatory suggestions. 

). In a large number of those who are to be taught read- 
ing and speaking, the first difficulty to be encountered arises 
from bad habits previously contracted. The most ready 
way to overcome these, is to go directly into the analysis of 
vocal sounds, as they occur in conversation. But to change 
a settled habit, even in trifles, often requires perseverance 
for a long time; of course it is not the work of a moment, to 
transform a heavy, uniform movement of voice, into one that 
is easy, discriminating, and forcible. This is to be accom- 
plished, not by a few irresolute, partial attempts, but by a 
steadiness of purpose, and of effort, corresponding with the 
importance of the end to be achieved. Nor should it seem 
strange if, in this process of transformation, the subject of it 
should at first, appear somewhat artificial and constrained in 
manner. More or less of this inconvenience is unavoidable, 
m all important changes of habit. The young pupil in 
chirography'never can become an elegant penman, till his 
bad habit of holding tha pen is broken up ; though for a 
time the change may have made him write worse than 
before. In respect to Elocution, as we" 1 as every othei art, 
the case may be in some measure similar. But let the new 
manner become so familiar, as to have in its favor the advan- 
tages of habit, and the difficulty ceases. 

2. The pupil should learn the distinction of inflections, by 
reading the familiar examples under one rule, occasionahy 
turning to the Exercises, when more examples are necessary ; 
and the Teacher's voice should set him right Avhenever he 
makes a mistake. In the same manner, he should go 
through ail the rules successively. If he acquires the habit 
of giving too great or too little extent to his slides of voice, 
he should be carefully corrected, according to the sugges- 
tions given, p. 27 and 110. — After getting the command of 
the voice, the groat point to be steadily kept in view, is to 
apply the principles of emphasis and inflection, just as nature 



DIRECTIONS TO TEACHERS. VII 

and sentiment demand. In respect to those principles of 
modulation, in which the power of the voice so essentially 
consists, we should always remember too, that, as no theory 
of the passions can teach one to be pathetic, so no descrip- 
tion that can be given of the inflection, emphasis, and tones, 
which accompany emotion, can impart this emotion, or be a 
substitute for it. No adequate description indeed can De 
given of the nameless and ever varying shades of expression, 
which real pathos gives to the voice. Precepts here are only 
subsidiary helps to genius and sensibility. 

3. Before any example or exercise is read to the Teacher, 
it should be studied by the pupil. At the time of reading, 
he should generally go through, without interruption ; and 
then the teacher should explain any fault, and correct it by the 
example of his own voice, requiring the parts to be repeated. 
It would be useful often to inquire why such a modification 
of voice occurs, in such a place, and how a change of struc- 
ture would vary the inflection, stress, &c. ; in other words to 
accustom the pupil to paraphrase the meaning conveyed by 
different expressions of voice ; as in the example p. 32 at 
the close of Rule IV. and p. 43, bottom. When the exam- 
ples are short, as in all the former part of the work, reference 
may easily be made to any sentence ; and in the long exam- 
ples, the lines are numbered, on the left hand of the page, 
to facilitate the reference, after a passage has been read. 
If an Exercise is read by a class in turn, it would be useful, 
at least occasionally, to call on two or more of the number 
to remark on the manner of the reader, proposing corrections, 
with reasons, before the remarks of the teacher are made. 
This will render them vigilant and intelligent, in the constant, 
practical application of theoretic principles; thus leading 
them to regard a proper management of voice as both an oyrt 
and a science. 

4. When any portion of the Exercises is about to be 
committed to memory for declamation, the pupil should first 
study the sentiment carefully, entering as far as possible, into 
the spirit of the author ; then transcribe it in a fair hand; 
then mark with pencil, the inflections, emphasis, &c. required 
on different words ; — then read it rhetorically to his Teacher, 
changing his pencil marks as the case may require ; and then 
commit it to memory perfectly, before it is spoken ; as any 
labor of recollection is certainly fatal to freedom, and variety, 
and force in speaking. In general it were well that the same 



VIII 



DIRECTIONS TO TEACHERS. 



piece should be subsequently once or more repeated, with a 
view to adopt the suggestions of the Instructor. For the pur- 
pose of improvement in elocution, a piece- of four or five 
minutes, is better than one of fifteen; and more advance may 
be made, in managing the voice and countenance, by speak- 
ing several times, a short speech, though an old one, (if it is 
done with due care each time to correct what was amiss,) 
than in speaking many long pieces, however spirited or new, 
which are but half committed, and in the delivery of which 
all scope of feeling and adaptation of manner, are frustrated 
by labor of memory. The attempt to speak with this indo- 
lent, halting preparation, is in aF respects worse than nothing. 



KEY OF RHETORICAL NOTATION. 



Key of Inflection. 

- denotes monotone. 

' rising inflection. 

falling inflection 

~ circumflex. 

Key of Modulation. 

(°) h^h. 
(°°) high and loud. 



o ) ]o ^- 

DO ) low and loud. 

• • ) slow. 

= ) quick. 

— ) plaintive. 

|| ) rhetorical pause. 

<) increase. 



CONTENTS. 



Paga. 

CHAP. I. Reading : its connexion with good education 13" 

Grammatical reading 21 

Rhetorical reading 21 

CHAP. II. Articulation 22 

Causes of defective articulation 22 

Difficulty of many consonant sounds 23 

Immediate succession of similar sounds 24 

Influence of accent 25 

Tendency to slide over unaccented vowels 25 

Cautions 26 

•JHAP. III. Inflections 27 

Description of Inflections 27 

Rule I. Influence of disjunctive or on Inflection 29 

Rule II. Of the Direct Question and its Answer 29 

Rule III. Of Negation opposed to Affirmation , . . . 30 

Rule IV. Rising Inflection. — Of the Pause of Suspension... 31 
Rule V. Of the influence of Tender Emotion on the voice. . 32 

Rule VI. Of the Penultimate Pause 33 

Falling Inflection 33 

Rule VII. Of the indirect Question and its Answer.. 33 

Rule VIII. The language of Authority.— Of surprise, &c 34 

Rule IX. Emphatic succession of particulars 35 

Rule X. Emphatic Repetition 36 

Rule XI. Final Pause 36 

Rule XII. The Circumflex 37 

CHAP. IV. Accent 38 

CHAP. V. Emphasis 39 

Sect. 1. Emphatic Stress 39 

Absolute emphatic Stress 41 

Antithetic or Relative Emphatic Stress 42 

Sect. 2. Emphatic Inflection 43 

Emphatic Clause 45 

Double Emphasis * 46 

CHAP. VI. Modulation 47 

Sect. 1. Faults of Modulation 47 

Monotony 47 

Mechanical Variety 18 

Sect. 2. Remedies 48 

The spirit of Emphasis to be cultivated 48 

A habit of discrimination as to Tones and Inflection 51 

Sect. 3. Pitch of voice 51 

Sect. 4. Quantity 52 

Rotundity and Fulness 52 

Loudness 54 

Time 54 

Strength of voice depends on good organs of) r. 

speech, &c $ 

Directions for preserving and strengthening them 54 
Rate of utterance 56 



X CONTENTS. 

Page 

Sect. 5. Compass of Voice 50 

Sect. G. Rhetorical Pause 58 

Sect. 7. Transition GO 

Sect. 8. Expression Gl 

Sect. 9. Rhetorical Dialogue 62 

Sect. 10. The Reading of Poetry 64 , 

CHAP. VII. Gesture G7 

Expression of countenance ' G7 

Attitude 68 

Faults of Rhetorical Action G8 

Gesture may want appropriateness and discrimi- ) rr> 

nation ' \ 

May be too constant, or violent, or complex, or i -* 

uniform ) ' 

Mechanical variety 72 

Use of right hand and left 73 



EXERCISES. 

PART I. 

Preparatory Remarks 76 

EXERCISES ON ARTICULATION. 
Exercise 1. ...- 78 

EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 

Exercise 2. Disjunctive or 78 

— 3. Direct Gluestion, &c 79 

Conjunctive or 81 

— 4. Negation opposed to affirmation 81 

Comparison and contrast 82 

5. Pause of Suspension 84 

6. Tender Emotion 88 

7. Indirect Gluestion, &c 90 

8. Language of Authority, Surprise, &c 92 

9. Emphatic Succession, &c 98 

10. Emphatic Repetition 99 

EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 
Exercise 11 — 17. Absolute and Relative stress, and Emphatic > im . 
Inflection - \ 1U1 

18. Difference between common and Intensive Inflection J 10 

EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 

Exercise 19. Compass of voice Ill 

Transition 116 

20. The power of Eloquence 116 

21. Hohenlinden 118 

22. Baule of Waterloo 119 

23. Negro's Complaint 100 

24. Marco Bozzaris 122 

25. Extract from Paradise Lost 123 



CONTENTS. XI 

Page 

Expression 12 r> 

Exercise 26. Judah's Speech to Joseph 1*25 

27. Joseph disclosing himself 126 

28. Death of a friend 127 

29. Burial of Sir John Moore . . . • 128 

30. Eve lamenting the loss of Paradise 129 

31. Soliloquy of Hamlet's Uncle 129 

Rhetorical Dialogue 130 

32. Examples from the Bible 130 



EXERCISES. 

PART II. 

Exercise 

33. Character of Columbus Irving. 136 

34. The Victim Philadelphia Casket. 138 

35. Conflagration at Rome of an Amphitheatre Croly. 138 

36. The African Chief Bryant. 140 

37. Riches of a poor Barber Edinburgh paper. 142 

38. Burning of the Fame N. Y. Atlas. 144 

39. Hour of Prayer Mrs. Hemans. 147 

. 40. My Mother's Grave Anonym. 148 

41. A Tale of Waterloo Anonym. 150 

42. The righteous never forsaken New- York Spectator. 152 

43. To Printers . . . . Fuher Ames. 154 

44. Washington PUrpoi.nl. 156 

45. Miserable case of a Weaver BelVs Messenger. 157 

46. Tomb of Washington 159 

47. Destruction of the Temple at Jerusalem by fire Millman. 162 

48. The Charnel Ship Charleston Courier. 165 

49. Life — a Spanish Poem Edinburgh Review. 167 

50. Death and the Drunkard 168 

51. The Plague in London Rothelan. 170 

52. The Battle of Borodino 172 

53. Shipwreck Fredericksburgh Arena. 173 

54. The Bucket — a Cold water Song Woodworth 175 

55. Anecdote of Judge Marshal Winchester Republican. 176 

56. The first and last Ticket ; .Manuscript of a Criminal. 178 

57. Death at the Toilet From the Diary of a Physician. 184 

58. Sabbath Schools ' Frelinghuysen. 186 

59. The folly and wickedness of War Knox. 188 

60. The Warrior Harbinger of Peace. 190 

6i. Death of Ashmun Mrs. Sigourney. 191 

6^. Love of Applause Hawes. 192 

63. Christian Integrity Haives. 193 

64. Watch J. Mason Good. 194 

65. New social order in America Douglas. 196 

6G. Voluntary Association Douglas. 197 

67. Bible Societies -. Douglas. 198 

68. Christ's entrv into Jerusalem Cunningham. 199 

69. Evening Hymn Monthly Vis. 200 

70. Universal Peace Chalmers. 201 

71. The Elder's Death Bed Prof. Wilson. 202 

72. Bensvoknce of God , .- 'Chalmers, 207 



Xll CONTENTS. 

Exercise Pasre 

73. Death of Princess Charlotte Robert Hall. 208 

74. Remarkable preservation from death at Sea... Prof. Wilson. 210 

75. The Bible the best Classic Grimke. 214 

76. Fathers of New England Spraguc. 215 

77. Duty of Literary men to their Country . Grimke. 218 

78. Eulogy on Adams and Jefferson Wirt. 219 

79. The Greek Revolution Webster. 221 

80. Triumph of the Gospel Phillip. 223 

81. Duties and Prospects of New England Pres. Quincy. 225 

82. The Sabbath School Teacher Jamez. 227 

83. Motives of the Gospel Dwight. 228 

84. Character of Richard Reynolds Thorpe. 230 

85. Address of the Bible Society— 1816 Mason. 231 

86. Roman Soldier; — Last days of Herculaneum Atherstone. 232 

87. The Orphan Boy Mrs. Opie. 235 

88. Christian Consolation 236 

89. Cruelty to Animals Cowper. 237 

90. Christianity Mason. 238 

91. Character of Mrs. Graham Mason.. 240 

92. Living to God Griffin. 241 

93. Plea for Africa Griffin. 243 

94. Abolition of the Slave Trade Christian Obs. 245 

95. Eliza Darwin. 246 

96. Character of Mr. Brougham... 248 

97. Character of Mr. "VVil be r force 250 

98. Eulogium on Mr. Fox Sheridan. 251 

99. Death of Sheridan Byron. 252 

100. The last family of Eastern Greenland Montgomery. 254 

101. The City and the Country M Donnough. 255 

102. Summary Punishment Scott. 257 

103. On the receipt of his Mother's Picture Cowper. 258 

104. Extract from " The Grave" Montgomery. 259 

105. Defence of Johnson Cnrran. 260 

i06. Taking of Warsaw Campbell. 262 

107. Lord Chatham Butler. 263 

108. Mr. Fox, and Mr. Pitt Butler. 265 

109. Death of Lord Chatham Percy. 266 

110. Lord Mansfield Peicy. 268 

111. Providential Distinctions Pollok. 270 

1 12. Eloquence of Bossuet Butler. 271 

1 13. Eloquence of Bourdaloue Butler. 273 

J 14. Eloquence of Bridaine Butler. 275 

J 15. Eloquence of Whitefield Gillies. 276 

J 16. Satan's Lamentation Milton. 278 

1 17. Eloquence of Sheridan 280 

1 18. Spirit of the American Revolution J. Quincy, Jr. 282 

1 19. America Philips. 284 

120. Patriotism of 1775 P. Henry, 286 

121. The discontented Pendulum Jane Taylor. 289 

122. Valedictory Hymn N. Adorns. 292 

123. Scene from Pizarro Kotzobuc. 293 

124. God Derzhanir. 297 

125. The Dead Sea Croly. 299 

126. New Missionary Hymn 5. F. Smith. 300 

Appendix 301 



THE 



RHETORICAL READER. 



CHAPTER L 

READING. ITS CONNEXION WITH GOOD EDUCATION. 

The art of reading well is indispensable to one who ex- 
nects to be a public speaker; because the principles on 
which it depends are the same as those which belong to 
rhetorical delivery in general, and because nearly all bad 
speakers were prepared to be so, by early mismanagement 
of the voice in reading. 

But the subject is one of common interest to all, who 
aim at a good education. Every intelligent father, who 
would have his son or daughter qualified to hold a respect- 
able rank in well-bred society, will regard it as among the 
very first of polite accomplishments, that they should be 
able to read well. But beyond this, the talent may be ap- 
plied to many important purposes of business, of rational 
entertainment, and cf religious duty. Of the multitudes 
who are not called to speak in public, including the whole 
of one sex, and all but comparatively a few of the other, 
there is no one to whom the ability to read in a graceful and 
impressive manner, may not be of great value. In this 
country, then, where the advantages of education are open 
to all, and where it is a primary object with parents of all 
classes, to have their children well instructed, it woui i seem 
reasonable to presume mat nearly all our youth, cf both 
sexes, must be good readers. Yet the number who ^an 

% 



14 READING. 

properly be so called, is comparatively small. No defect of 
vocal organs, nor of intelligence and sensibility, which may 
be supposed to exist among the pupils of our schools, is suf- 
ficient to account for the wretched habits of reading, which 
are so prevalent. The fact must be ascribed to causes more 
unquestionable and radical in their operation; and these 
causes, in my opinion, are to be found chiefly, in the inade- 
quate views of the subject, entertained by those to whom the 
interests of early education are committed. 

Notwithstanding the manifest advances in public sen- 
timent respecting this matter, which we have witnessed 
withm a few years, there are still many Teachers, and pub- 
lishers of reading lessons, who maintain that no precepts as 
to management of voice can be useful to the young; but 
that every thing of this sort tends to embarrass rather than 
aid the attainment of a good elocution. But if it is enough 
to put a book into the hands of a pupil, and require him to 
read, without giving him any instructions how to read, then 
I ask, among the past generations, who have been treated 
just in this manner, why have not all, or nearly all, become 
good readers % Teachers have been sufficiently sparing of 
rules ; and if a boy was only careful to speak his words 
distinctly and fluently, and " mind the stops," nothing more 
was required. Elementary books too have been, till of late, 
nearly silent as to precepts for regulating the manner in 
reading. Some of these did formerly give the three follow 
ing directions ; — that the parenthesis requires a quick ario 
weak pronunciation ; — that the voice should be raised at tht 
end of a question; — and dropped into a cadence, at the end 
of all other sentences. The first direction, as to the paren- 
thesis, is proper in all cases. The second is proper in all 
questions answered by yes or no, and improper in all others. 
Hence the teacher found the instincts of every child to rebel 
against the rule, in reading such questions as, — H Who 
art thou?" " Where is boasting then?" — and just so, as to 



READING. 15 

the last rule, respecting cadency when a sentence ends with 
an antithetic, negative clause; as, " You were paid to fight 
against Alexander, not to rail at him." 

But because very defective precepts are useless or per 
nicious, does it follow that this interesting subject must be 
left to accident; so that if any one K comes a good reader, 
it shall be only because it happens to be so? Then it will 
doubtless happen, in time to come, as it has in time past, 
that the number of good readers will be few, very few. 

In answer to this question, some who discard all theory 
in elocution, would probably say, — we would by no means 
leave the learner to chance : we would have him imitate his 
Tea c he r, who should be qualified to correct his faults of 
manner, by exemplifying himself what is right, and what is 
wrong, in any given case. Doubtless the Teacher should 
watch every opportunity to aid his pupil in this manner. 
But when he reads a sentence well, as an example to his 
pupil, is this done by accident? Is there no reason why his 
emphasis is laid on one word rather than another? — why it 
is strong or weak ? why his pauses are long or short .- — 
why he makes a difference between a parenthetic clause and 
another? — why his voice turns upward on one word, and 
downward on another ? — why he ends a sentence with a 
small cadence, or a great one, or with no cadence, as cases 
vary ? Is all this mere chance ? If so, the pupil may as 
well be left to chance without, as with a Teacher. If not ; 
— if the Teacher has a reason why he reads so, and not 
otherwise, cannot he tell that reason ? This is what com- 
mon sense requires of him, to teach hj precept and ex- 
ample both. Besides : — what if that Teacher reads badly, 
nimself; just because they who were his patterns, during 
the formation of his early habits, were oad readers ? Must 
we go on still at the same rate, and insist on it that the 
proper remedy for bad reading, is the imitation of bad ex- 
amples? Then we have no remedy. But common sense, 



16 READIN . 

I say again, would combine practice with theory ; so that 
the Teacher, knowing the conformity between thought and 
vocal language, may not only express this conformity by his 
own voice, but explain it to his pupils. 

There are others, who would discard any systematic in- 
struction on this subject, and yet allow that one important 
direction ought to be given and incessantly repeated, namely, 
be natural. But what is it to be natural ? The pupil 
will understand, probably, that he is to read in the manner 
that is most easy to himself, or that gives him the least 
trouble ; that is, the manner to which he is accustomed. Bad 
as that manner may be, the direction has no tendency to 
mend it; because he supposes that any new manner would 
be unnatural to him. But you correct him again, and tell 
him to be -natural. The direction is just, is simple, is easily 
repeated ; but the infelicity is, that it has been repeated a 
thousand times,, without any practical advantage. You then 
become more particular, and tell him that, to be natural he 
must enter into the spirit of what he utters, and read it so 
as feeling requires. He tries again, and fails, because he 
attempts to do what feeling requires, without feeling ; and 
because he has no conception what it is in his voice that is 
wrong. You tell him perhaps, that he must drop his reading 
tone, and be natural; but he understands nothing what 
you mean ; and while his manner becomes more rapid or 
more loud, for this admonition, he goes on with his tone 
still. He is under the influence of an inveterate habit, 
which he acquired from being early accustomed to read 
that which he did not understand, and in which he felt no 
interest. 

To break up unseemly tones, thus deeply fixed by habit, 
every teacher of reading or speaking finds to be the first and 
hardest task in his employment. In general, the longer 
these habits have been cherished, the more stubborn they 
become ; and measures that might be sufficient to prevent 



READING 17 

them, are by no means sufficient for their cure. To do 
what is right, with unperverted faculties, is ten times easier 
than to undo what is wrong. How often do we see men of 
fine understanding and delicate sensibility, who utter their 
thoughts in conversation, with all the varied intonations 
which sentiment requires : but the moment they come to 
read or speak in a formal manner, adopt a set of artificial 
tones utterly repugnant to the spirit of a just elocution. 
Shall we say that such men do not understand what they 
speak in public, as well as what they speak in conversation % 
Plainly the difference arises from a perverse habit, which 
prevails over them in one case, and not in the other. 
Many instances of this sort I have known, where a man 
has been fully sensible of something very w r rong in his 
'ones, but has not been able to see exactly what the fault 
is; and after a few indefinite and unsuccessful efforts at 
amendment, has quietly concluded to go on in the old way. 
So he most conclude, so long as good sense and emotion 
are not an equal match for bad habits, without a knowledge 
of those elementary principles, by which the needed remedy 
is to be applied. These habits he acquired in chjlcmood, 
just as he learned to speak at all, or to speak English rather 
than French, — by imitation. His tones both of passion and 
of articulation, are derived from an instinctive correspond- 
ence between the ear and voice. If he had been born 
deaf, he would have possessed neither. Now in what way 
shall he break up his bad habits, without so much attention 
to the analysis of speaking sounds, that he can in some 
good degree distinguish those which differ, and imitate 
those winch he would wish to adopt or avoid? How shall 
he correct a tone, while he cannot understand why it needs 
correction, because he chooses to remain ignorant of the 
only language in w r hich the fault can possibly be described ? 
Let him study and accustom himself to apply a few element- 
ary principles, and then he may at least be able to un- 

2* 



18 *' READING. 

derstand what are the defects of his intonations. I do not 
say that this attainment may be made with equal facility, or 
to an equal extent, by all men. But to an important extent 
it may be made- by every one ; and that with a moderate 
share of the effort demanded by most other valuable acqui- 
sitions; I might say with one half the time and attention 
hat are requisite to attain skill in music. 

Should some still doubt whether any theory of vocal in- 
flections can be adopted, which shall not be perplexing and 
on the whole injurious, especially to the young, I answer 
that the same doubt may as well be extended to every de- 
partment of practical knowledge'. To think of the rules of 
syntax, every sentence we speak, or of the rules of ortho- 
graphy and style, every time we take up our pen to write, 
would indeed be perplexing. The remedy prescribed by 
common sense in all such cases, is, not to discard correct 
theories, but to make them so familiar as to govern our 
practice spontaneously, and without reflection. 

The benefit of analysis and precept is, to aid the teacher 
m making the pupil conscious of his own faults, as a pre- 
requisite to their correction. The object is to unfetter the 
soul, and set it free to act. In doing this a notation for the 
eye, designed to regulate the voice in a few obvious parti- 
culars, may be of much advantage: otherwise why shall we 
not dismiss punctuation too from books, and depend wholly 
on the teacher for pauses, as well as tones ? 

The reasonable prejudice w T hich some intelligent men 
have felt against any system of notation, arises from the 
preposterous extent to which it has been carried, by a few 
popular teachers, and especially by their humble imitators. 
A judicious medium is what we want. Five characters 
in music, and six vowels in writing, enter into an infinitude 
of combinations in melody and language. So the element- 
ary modi Nations of voice in speaking, are few, and easily 
understood; and to mark them, so far as distinction is use- 



READING. 19 

ful, does not require a tenth part of the rules, which some 
have thought necessary. 

I have made these last remarks, "because, while I think 
it a mere prejudice, and a very mischievous one, to maintain 
that there are no elementary rules of good reading, there 
is another extreme, which would carry theoretic directions 
beyond all bounds of common sense and practical utility. 
1 refer to the theory which maintains that, while musical 
notes are uttered without any slide, the sounds of articulate 
language are always spoken with a perceptible slide of the 
voice, either upward or downward. This, in my opinion, 
is carrying a useful, general theory to an improper extreme. 
In the notes of a tune, as given from a stringed instrument, 
or from the human voice, there certainly is no inflection. 
But no man of accurate ear will say that there is any neces- 
sary distinction between the notes sol, fa, as uttered in mu- 
sic, and the same sounds in speech, where they occur in 
examples like the following; 

u My soul, how lovely is the place," 

" Father of all, in every age, in every clime ador'd." 
Though it is possible to speak the open vowels, o and a, in 
the Italic syllables, with inflections, it is not requisite, nor 
natural ; and if any think it to be so, I must suppose that 
they have not been accustomed to distinguish betw r een a 
slide of the voice, and that transition of note to higher or 
lower, in which consecutive syllables are uttered. If how- 
ever, the position that every syllable has a slide, is held as 
an occult theory, it is harmless, and needs not a moment's 
discussion ; but if practical importance is attached to it, so 
that the learner must try to distinguish ichat slide he must 
give to each syllable, in the simplest language, the theory 
becomes positively injurious in influence. It frustrates ail 
just discrimination, by aiming at that which is needless and 
endless in minuteness. It operates much as it would to re- 
quire, by the Italic character, or other notation, every word 
m a sentence to be spoken with emphatic force. 



20 READING. 

Now the most general principle of a good elocution that 
can be laid down is ; the voice must conform to sentiment 
Where the thought is simple, and without emotion, as ; 
" No man may put off the law of God ;" to insist on any- 
thing like marked stress, or inflection is worse than useless. 
But call the pupil to read ;— " Virtue, not rolling suns, the 
mind matures :" — or " Arm, warriors i Arm for fight /" 
and it is quite another case. Here stress and inflection are 
needed on the emphatic words. Why ? — Because sense 
and emotion require it. Let these few words be right, and 
no matter for the rest ; — they will be right, or nearly so, of 
course. But if you require the pupil to give stress and in- 
flection to all the Words, you teach him to sacrifice the 
sense, and aim at conformity to some arbitrary standard ot 
excellence, which he may imagine that he understands, but 
which will ruin all significant variety in his intonations. 

There is one great law of mind, and of language, which 
Teachers of youth should well understand, namely, that 
emotion speaks with its own appropriate modes of expression. 
Where a sentence contains a simple thought, without emo- 
tion of any sort, it requires nothing but proper words, in 
grammatical order. No principle of rhetoric is concerned 
in forming such a sentence, and none in uttering it, except 
distinctness. But the moment that passion speaks, gram- 
mar is subordinate, and rhetoric becomes ascendant. A 
groan, a shriek of distress, thrills the heart, without the 
help of syntax; and the same principle exists as to all the 
lower degrees of passion, till we come down again to the 
mere province of words, and grammar. Now passion and 
discriminating sentiment demand an appropriate expression 
of voice, not in the ,mere utterance of words, but in the 
manner of uttering them. On this principle, rest all the 
laws of inflection, emphasis, &c. v/hich can be given to any 
valuable purpose. These laws, as I have said, are few; 
and can be stated and reduced to practice, with as much 
ease as any other laws of language. 



READING. 21 

J shaL finish these general remarks, by laying down a 
plain distinction between the two sorts of reading, the gram- 
matical, and the rhetorical. 

Grammatical reading, as I have just intimated, respects 
merely the sense of what is read. When performed audibly, 
for the benefit of others, it is still only the same sort of 
process which one performs silently, for his own benefit, 
when he casts his eye along the page, to ascertain the 
meaning of its author. The chief purpose of the correct 
reader is to be intelligible ; and this requires an accurate 
perception of grammatical relation in the structure of sen- 
tences ; a due regard to accent and pauses, to strength oi 
voice, and clearness of utterance. This manner is generally 
adopted in reading plain, unimpassioned style. The cha- 
racter and purpose of a composition may be such, that it 
would be as preposterous to read it with tones of emotion, 
as it would to announce a proposition in grammar or geom- 
etry, in the language of metaphor. But though merely the 
correct manner, suits many purposes of reading, it is drv 
and inanimate, and is the lowest department in the province 
of delivery. Still the great majority, not to say of respect- 
able men, but of bookish men, go nothing beyond this in 
their attainments or attempts. 

Rhetorical reading has a higher object, and calls into 
action higher powers. It is not applicable to a composi- 
tion destitute of emotion, for it supposes feeling. It does 
not barely express the thoughts of an author, but expresses 
them with the force, variety, and beauty, which feeling 
demands. 

To this, latter sort of reading would I bend all my efforts 
in forming the habits of the young. To this, almost ex- 
clusive*y, would I apply precepts respecting management 
of the voice. And with a view to prevent the formation of 
bad habits, or to cure them before they become established, 
I would take off children, just so soon as they can read with 



22 ARTICULATION. 

tolerable readiness, from lessons which belong to the gram- 
matical class, and put them upon those which contain some 
rhetorical principles. These lessons should, at first, be 
chiefly narrative ; or narrative and colloquial combined: — 
by which I mean, dialogue proper, or rhetorical dialogue; 
in w r hich the same voice must represent two speakers or 
more. 



CHAPTER II. 
ARTICULATION. 



It has been well said, that a good articulation is to the 
ear, what a fair hand -writing, or a fair type is to the eye. 
Who has not felt the perplexity of supplying a word, torn 
away by the seal of a letter ; or a dozen syllables of a 
book, in as many lines, cut off by the carelessness of a 
binder? The same inconvenience is felt from a similar 
omission in spoken language ; with this additional disad- 
vantage, that we are not at liberty to stop, and spell out the 
meaning by construction. 

A man of indistinct utterance reads this sentence ; " The 
magistrates ought to prove a declaration so publicly made." 
When I perceive that his habit is to strike only the accented 
syllable clearly, sliding over others, I do not know whethei 
it is meant, that they ougho to prove the declaration, or 
to approve it, or reprove it, — for in either case he would 
speak only the syllable prove. Nor do I know, whether 
the magistrates ought to do it, or the magistrate sought to 
do it. 

Defective articulation arises from bad organs, or bad 
habits, or sounds of difficult utterance. 



ARTICULATION. 23 

Every one knows how the loss of a tooth, or a contusion 
on the lip, affects the formation of oral sounds. When there 
is an essential fault in the structure of the mouth; when the 
tongue is disproportionate in length or width, or sluggish in 
its movements ; or the palate is too high, or too low ; or the 
teeth badly set, or decayed, art may diminish, but cannot 
fully remove the difficulty. In nine cases out often, however, 
imperfect articulation comes not so much from bad organs, 
as from the abuse of good ones. 

The animal and intellectual temperament doubtless has 
some connexion with this subject. A sluggish action of 
the mind, imparts a correspondent character to the action of 
the vocal organs, and makes speech only a succession of 
indolent, half-formed sounds, more resembling the muttering 
of a dream, than the clear articulation, which we ought 
to expect in one who knows what he is saying. Excess of 
vivacity, on the other hand, or excess of sensibility, often 
produce a hasty, confused utterance. Delicacy speaks in 
a timid, feeble voice ; and the fault of indistinctness is often 
aggravated in a bashful child, by the indiscreet chidings 
of his teacher, designed to push him into greater speed 
in spelling out his early lessons ; while he has little fami- 
liarity with the form and sound, and less with the meaning 
of words. 

The way is now prepared to notice some of those dif- 
ficulties in articulation, which arise from the sounds to be 
spoken. 

The first and chief difficulty lies in the fact that arti- 

culation co?isists essentially in the consonant sounds, and that 

many of these are difficult of utterance. My limits do not 

allow me to illustrate this by a minute analysis of the 

elements of speech. 

It is evident to the slightest observation that the open vowels 
are uttered with ease and strength. On these, public criers swell 
their notes to so great a compass. On these too, the loudest notes 
of music are formed. Hence ^the great s*iJ] which is requisite to 



24 ARTICULATION 

distinct articulation in music ; for the stream of voice, which flows 
so easily on the vowels and half vowels, is interrupted by the oc- 
currence of a harsh consonant; and not only the sound, but the 
breath, is entirely stopped by a mute. In^ singing, for example, any 
sydable which ends with p } k, d, or t, all the sound must be uttered 
on the preceding vowel ; for when the organs come to the proper 
position for speaking the mute, the voice instantly ceases. This 
explains what has sometimes been thought a mystery, that stammering 
persons find little difficulty in reading poetr) r , and none in singing;* 
whereas they step at once in speaking, when they come to certain con- 
sonants. Any one who would practically understand this subject, 
should recollect that the distinction between human speech, and the 
inarticulate sounds of brutes, lies not in the vowels, but in the conso- 
nants; and that in a defective utterance of these, bad articulation 
primarily consists. 

A second difficulty arises from the immediate succession 
of the same or similar sounds : as in the recurrence of the 
aspirates ; 

Up the Zugh hill he Aeaves a huge round stone. 
or Vhe collision of open vowels ; 

TI10' oft the ear the open vowels tire. 

But a greater difficulty still is occasioned by the im- 
mediate recurrence of the same consonant sound, without 
the intervention of a vowel or a pause. The following are 
examples; " For Christ's sake." "The hos^s stiU stood." 
" The battle las^s s^ill." The illustration will be more in- 
telligible from examples in which bad articulation affects 
the sense. 

Wastes and deserts ; — Waste sand deserts. 
To obtain either ; To obtain neither. 
Hij cry moved me ; — His crime moved me. 
He could pay nobody ; — he could pain nobody. 

Two successive sounds are to be formed here, with the 
organs m the same position; so that, without a pause between, 
only one of the single sounds is spoken; and the difficulty 
is much increased when sense or grammatical relation for- 
bids such a pause. 

* This is partly owing also to a deliberate, metrical movement. 



ARTICULATION. 25 

A third difficulty arises from the influence of accent 
The importance which this stress attaches to syllables on 
which it falls, requires them to be spoken in a more full 
and deliberate manner tnan others. Hence, if the recur- 
red e of this stress is too close, it occasions heaviness in 
utterance ; if too remote, indistinctness. In the example ; 

And ten low words oft creep in one dull line, 

(he poet compels us, in spite of metrical harmony, to lay an 
accent on each syllable. 

But the remoteness of accent in other cases involves a 
greater difficulty still ; because the intervening syllables 
are liable to be spoken with a rapidity inconsistent with 
distinctness, especially if they abound with jarring conso- 
nants. Combinations of this kind we have in the words 
communicatively, authoritatively, terrestrial, reasonableness, 
disinterestedness. And the case is worse still where we 
preposterously throw r back the accent, so as to be followed 
by four or five syllables, as Walker directs in these words 
receptacle, 'peremptorily, accept ablcness. While these com- 
binations almost defy the best organs of speech, no one 
finds any difficulty in uttering words combined with a due 
proportion of liquids, and a happy arrangement of vowels 
and accents. 

Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, 

Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the mam. 

A fourth difficulty arises from a tendency of the organs 
to slide over unaccented vowels. There is a large class oi 
words beginning with pre, and pro, in which this seldom 
fails to appear. In prevent, prevail, predict, a bad articu- 
lation sinks e of the first syllable so as to make pr-vent, 
pr-vail, pr-dict. The case is the same with o m proceed, 
profane, promote; spoken pr-ceed, &c. So e is confounded 
with short u in event, omit, &c. spoken uvvent, ummit. In 
the same manner u is transformed into e, as in povulous, 

3 



26 ARTICULATION. 

regular, singular, educate, &c. spoken pop-e-lous, reg-e-lar t 
ed-e-cate. A smart percussion of r>»e tongue, with a little 
rest on the consonant before u, so as to make it quite distinct, 
would remove the difficulty. 

The same sort of defect, it may be added, often appears in 
the:' distinct utterance of consonants ending syllal) es; thus 
in at-iempt, attention, ef-fect, of-fence, the consonant of the 
first syllable is suppressed. 

To the foregoing remarks, it may be proper to add three cautions. 

The first is, in aiming to acquire a distinct articulation, take care 
not to form one that is measured and mechanical. The child, in passing 
from his spelling manner, is ambitious to become a swift reader, and 
thus falls into a confusion of organs, that is to be cured only by re- 
tracing the steps which produced it. The remedy, however, is no 
better than the fault, if it runs into a scan-ning, pe-dan-tic for-mal-i-ty, 
giving undue stress to particles and unaccented syllables ; thus, " He 
is the man of all the world whom I rejoice to meet." 

In some parts of our country, there is a prevalent habit of sinking 
the sound of e or i, in words where English usage preserves it, as in 
rebel, chapel, Latin, — spoken reb'l, chap 1 1, LaVn. In other cases, where 
English usage suppresses the vowel, the same persons speak it with 
marked distinctness, or turn it into u; as ev'n, op'n, heav'n, pronounced 
ev-un, op-am, heav-un. 

It should, be remarked that vowels not under the accent, are often 
uttered slightly by good speakers, where affectation, by trying to give 
them prominence, runs into a very faulty pronunciation. Thus in at- 
tempting to distinguish e frorn^ in such words as vncked, gospel, many 
pronounce them wicked, gospel, wickwdnwss, &c. Unaccented 
vowels are often necessarily indistinct, e in wicked, having the same 
sound as i in it. So all the vowels, a, e, i, o, u, ?/, must often be spoken 
so as to have the sound of short u; as in scholar, master, satirist, . 
doctor, mart?/r, pronounced scholar, master, &c. 

The second caution is, — let the close of sentences be spoken clearly ; 
with Mini, lent strength, and on the proper pitch, to bring out the 
meaning completely. No part of a sentence is so important as the 
close, both in respect to sense and harmony. 

The" third caution is, — ascertain your own defects of articulation, by 
the aid of some friend, and then devote a short time statedly and daily, to 
correct them. Let the reader make a list of such words and combina- 
tions as he has found most difficult to his organs, and repeat them as 
a set exercise. If he has been accustomed to say om-nip-etent , pop-e- 
lous, pr-mote, pr-vent, let him learn to speak the unaccented vowels 
properly.* 

* On stammering and impediments, which fall under the head of ar- 
ticulation, the reader may find my views in the Analysis of Rhetorical 
Delivery. # 



INFLECTIONS. 27 

CHAPTER III, 
INFLECTIONS. 



Description of Inflections. 

The absolute modifications of the voice in speaking are 
four; namely, monotone, rising inflection, falling inflection, 
and circumflex. The first may be marked to the eye by a 
horizontal line, thus, (-) the second thus, (') the third thus, 
(')the fourth thus, (-). 

The monotone is a sameness of sound on successive syl 
lables, which resembles that produced by repeated strokes on 
a bell. Unseemly as this is, where varied inflections are 
required, it more or less belongs to grave delivery, especially 
in elevated description, or where emotions of sublimity or 
reverence are expressed ; as ; — 

He rode upon a cherub and did fly. — I saw a great white throne, 
and him that sat on it. 

The rising inflection turns the voice upward, or ends 
higher than it begins. It is heard invariably in the direct 
question; as, Wilt you go to-day ? 

The falling inflection turns the voice downwards, or ends 
lower than it begins. It is heard in the answer to a question ; 
as, No] I shall go to-morrow. 

As the whole doctrine of inflections depends on these two simple 
slides of- the voice, one more explanation seems necessary, as to the 
degree in which each is applied, under different circumstances. In 
most cases where the rising slide is used, it is only a gentle turn oi 
the voice upward, one or two notes. In cases of emotion, as in 
the spirited, direct question, the slide may pass through five or eight 
notes. The former may be. called the common rising inflection, the 
latter the intensive. Just the same distinction exists in the falling 
inflection. Tn the question, uttered with surprise, " Are you going ' 
io-ddy ?" the slide is intensive. But in the following case, it is com- 
mon, " as fame is but breath,, a,s riches a,re transitory, and, life itself is 
uncertain, so we should seek a better portion " To carry the rising siide 
in the latter case, as far as in the former, is a great fault, though not 
an uncommon one. 



28 INFLECTIONS. 

The circumflex is a union of the two inflections, some- 
times on one syllable, and sometimes on several. It begins 
with the falling, and ends with the rising slide ; as, J may go 
to-morrow, though I cannot go to-day. " They tell us to be 
moderate; but they, they, are to revel in profusion." On the 
words marked in these examples, there is a significant twist- 
ing of the voice downwards, and then upwards, without 
which the sense is not expressed. 

Besides these absolute modifications of voice, there are others 
which may be called relative, and which may be classed under the 
four heads of "pitch, quantity, rate, and quality. These may be pre- 
sented thus ; 

Pit,, j gg •> Quantity. { g* « -Rate. \ gg* > Quality. { ^ 

As these relative modifications of voice assume almost an endless 
variety, according to sentiment and emotion in a speaker, they belong 
to the chapter on modulation. 

Classification of Inflections. 
In order to render the new classification which I have 
given intelligible, I have chosen examples chiefly from col- 
loquial language; because the tones of conversation ought 
to be the basis of delivery, and because these only are at 
once recognised by the ear. Being confoffned to nature, 
they are instinctively right ; so that scarcely a man in a 
million uses artificial tones in conversation. And this one 
fact, I remark in passing, furnishes a standing canon to the 
learner in elocution. In contending with any bad habit of 
voice, let him break up the sentence on which the difficulty- 
occurs, and throw it, if possible, into the colloquial form. 
Let him observe in himself and others, the turns of voice 
which occur in. speaking, familiarly and earnestly, on com- 
mon occasions. 

As the difficulty of the learner at first, is to distinguish the two 
chief inflections, and as the best method of doing this, is by compar- 
ing them together, the following classification begins with cases in 
which the two are statedly found in the same connexion; and then 
extends to ^ases in which they are used separately; the whole being 
marked in a continued series of rules, for convenient reference. 



INFLECTIONS. ' 29 

Both Inflections together. 
Rule I. When the disjunctive or connects words 01 
clauses, it has the rising inflection before, and the falling 
after it. 

EXAMPLES. 

Shall I come to you with a rod — or in love? 

The baptism of John, was it from heaven, — or of men 1 

Will you go — or stay 1 

Will you ride — or walk 1 

Will you go to-day — or to-morrow? 

Did he travel for health, — or pleasure 1 

Did he resemble his father, — or his mother ? 

Is this book yours, — or mine? 
Rule II. The direct question, or that which admits tht 
answer of yes or no, has the rising inflection, and the answei 
has the falling. 

EXAMPLES. 

Are they Hebrews'? So am I. 

Are they Israelites'? So am I. 

Are they the seed of Abraham 1 So am I. 

Are they ministers of Christ ? I am more. [Paul.] 

Did you not speak to it? My lord, I did. 

Hold you the watch to-night 1 We do, my lord. 

Arm'd, say you? Armed, my lord. 

From top to toe ? My lord, from head to foot. 

Then saw you not his face'? O yes, my lord. 

What, look'd he frowningly 1 A countenance more in sorrow 

than in anger. 

Pale % Nay, very pale. — Shak. Hamlet, 

Note 1. If 1 wish to know whether my friend will go on a journey 
within two days, I say perhaps, u Will you go to-day, or to-morrow 7" 
He may answer, " yes,' --because my rising reflection on both words 
imptes that I used the or between them conjunctively. But if I had 
used it disjunctively, it must have had the rising slide before it. and 
the falling after ; and then the question is, not whether he will go 
within two days, but on which of the two; — thus, " Will you go to-day 
— or to-morrow ?" The whole question, in this case, cannot admit the 
answer yes or no, and of course cannot end with the rising slide. 

Note 2. When Exclamation becomes a question, it demands the 
rising slide ; as, " How, you say, are we to accomplish it? How ac- 
complish it ! Certainly not by fearing to attempt it." 

3* 



30 



INFLECTIONS. 



Rule III. When negation is opposed to affirmation^ 
the former has the rising, and the latter the falling inflec- 
tion. 



EXAMPLES. 

I did not say a better soldier,— but an elder. 
Study not for amusement, — but for improvement. 
He was esteemed, not for wealth, — but for wisdom. 
He will not come to-day, — but to-morrow. 
He did not act wisely, but unwisely. 
He did not call me, — but you. 
He did not s&y pride, — but pride. 

Note 1. Negation alone, not opposed to affirmation, generally in- 
clines the vr-ice to the rising slide, but not always, as some respectable 
Teachers have maintained. " Thou shalt not kill ;" " Thou shalt not 
steal;" — are negative precepts, in which the falling slide mast be used; 
and the simple particle no, with the intensive falling slide, is one of 
the strongest monosyllables in the language. 

Note 2. The reader should be apprised here, that the falling slide, 
being often connected with strong emphasis, and beginning on a high 
and spirited note, is liable to be mistaken, by those little acquainted 
with the subject, for the rising slide. If one is in doubt which of the 
two he has employed, on a particular word, let him repeat botn to- 
gether, by forming a question, thus, " Did I say go, or go ?" or a ques- 
tion and answer, thus, " Will you go, — or stay? I shall go." " Will 
you ride, or walk ? I shall ride." Th:s will give the contrary slides 
on the same word. 

But as some may be unable still to distinguish the falling, confound- 
ing it, as just mentioned, with the rising inflection, or, on the other 
hand, w T ith the cadence; 1 observe that the difficulty lies in two things. 
One is; that the slide is not begun so high, and the other, that it is not 
carried through so many notes, as it ought to be. I explain this by a 
diagram, thus : 




Will you go to- ~> 



It is sufficiently exact to say, that in reading this properly the 
syllables without slide may be spoken on one key or monotone. 
From this key go slides upwards to its highest note, and from the 
same high note stay slides downwards to the key; and go does the 
same, in the answer to the question. In the second example, the 
case is entirely stimiiar. Bui ilz difficulty with the inexpert reader 
is, that he strikes the downward slide, not above the key, but on it, 



INFLECTIONS. 3i 

and then slides downward, just as in a cadence. The faulty manner 
may be represented thus : 

Will you go to- & or to- ^ I shall go to- *_ 

0t »? % 

The other part of the difficulty, in distinguishing the falling inflec- 
tion from the opposite, arises from its want of sufficient extent. 
Sometimes indeed the voice is merely dropped to a low note, with- 
out any slide at all. The best remedy is. to take a sentence with 
some emphatic word, on which the intensive falling slide is proper, 
and protract that slide, in a drawling manner, from a high note to a 
low one. This will make its distinction from the rising slide very 
obvious. 

Rising Inflection. 

Rule IV. The pause of suspension, denoting that the 
sense is unfinished, requires the rising inflection. 

This rule embraces several particulars, more especially 
applying to sentences of the periodic structure, which con- 
sist of several members, but form no complete sense before 
the close. It is a first principle of articulate language, that 
in such a case, the voice should be kept suspended, to denote 
continuation of sense. 

The following are some of the cases to which the rule applies. 

1. Sentences beginning toith a conditional particle or clause ; as, 

" If some of the branches be broken off, and thou, being a wild 
olive-tree, wert grafted in among them, and with them partakest of 
the root and fatness of the olive-tree; boast not against the branch- 
es." " As face answereth to face in water, so the heart of man to 
man." 

2. The case absolute; as, 

"His father dying, and no heir being left except himself, lie 
succeeded to the estate." " The question having been fully dis- 
cussed, and all objections completely refuted, the decision was 
unanimous." 

3. The infinitive mood with its adjuncts, used as a nominative 
case ; as, 

" To smile on those whom we should censure, and to countenance 
those who are guilty of bad actions, is to be guilty ourselves. ;, 
" To be pure in heart, to be pious and benevolent, constitutes human 
happiness." 



32 INFLECTIONS. 

4. The vocative* case without strong emphasis, when- it is a respectful 
call to attention, expresses no sense completed, and comes under the 
inflection of the suspending pause ; as, 

" Men, brethren, and fathers, — hearken." " Friends, Romans, coun- 
trymen ! — lend me your ears." 

5. The parenthesis commonly requires the same inflection at its 
close, while the rest of it is often to be spoken in the monotone; as, 

" Know ye not, brethren, {for I speo.k to them that know the law,) that 
the law hath dominion over a man as long as he liveth?" 

An exception may apply to the general principle of this rule, when- 
ever one voice is to represent two persons, thus; 

If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one 
of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled ; not- 
withstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the 
body; wha: doth it profit'? 

Here the sense is entirely suspended to the close, and yet the clause 
introduced as the language of another, requires the falling slide. 

Another exception, resting on still stronger ground, occurs where 
an antithetic clause requires the intensive falling slide on some chief 
word, to denote the true meaning: as in the following example, — 
" The man who is in the daily use of ardent spirit, if he does not 
become a drunkard, is in danger of losing his health and character." 
In this periodic sentence, the meaning is not formed till the close ; and 
yet the falling slide must be given at the end of the second iv ember, 
or the sense is subverted ; for the rising slide on drunkard would 
imply that his becoming such, is the only way to preserve health and 
character. 

Rule V. Tender emotion generally inclines the voice to 
the rising slide. 

Grief, compassion, and delicate affection, soften the soul, 
and are uttered in words, invariably with corresponding 
qualities of voice. 

Hence the vocative case, when it expresses either affection 
or delicate respect, takes the rising slide ; as, 

" Jesus saith unto her, Mary." "Jesus saith unto him, Thomas." 
" Sir, I perceive that thou art a prophet."— " Sirs, what must I do *y 
be saved ?" 

The same slide prevails in pathetic poetry. 
Thus with the year, 
Seasons return ; but not to me returns 

* I use this term as better suiting my purpose than that of our gram- 
marians, — nominative independent. 



INFLECTIONS. S3 

Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn, 
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, 
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine, 
But cloud instead, and ever during dark 
Surround me 

So in the beautiful little poem of Cowper, on the receipt 
of Ki'S mother's picture. 

My mother! when I learn'd that thou wast dead, 
Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed.1 
Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son. 
Wretch even then, life's journey just begun 1 
I heard the bell toll'd on thy burial day, 
I saw the hearse, that bore thee slow away, 
And, turning from my nurs'ry window, drew 
A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu. 

Rule VI. The rising slide is commonly used at the 
last pause but one in a sentence. The reason is, that the ear 
expects the voice to fall when the sense is finished ; and 
therefore it should rise for the sake of variety and harmony, 
on the pause that precedes the cadence. — Ex. 

" The minor longs to be at age, chen to be a man of business, then 
to make up an estate, then to arrive at honours, then to retire." *' ^uar 
lives, (says Seneca,) are spent either in doing nothing at all, or in 
doing nothing to the purpose, or in doing nothing that we ought to 
do." 

Falling Inflection. 

So instinctively does bold and strong passion express itself 
by this turn of voice, that, just as far as the falling slide be- 
comes intensive, it denotes emphatic force. The VIII. IX. 
and X. rules will illustrate this remark. 

Rule VII. The indirect question, or that which is not 
answered bv yes or no, has the falling inflection ; and its 
answer has the same. As, 

What. Tubero, did that naked sword of yours mean, in the '.attle 
of Pharsalia? At whose breast was its point aimed 1 What was the 
mean iag of your arms, your spirit, your eyes, your hands, your ardour 
of soul 1 V 



34 INFLECTIONS. 

Wno say the people that I dm ? They ansivering said, John the Bap- 
tist; but some say, Ellas ; and others say thai one of the old prophets is 
risen again. — Where is boasting then? It is excluded. — Who first se- 
duced them to that foul revolt ? The infernal serpent. 

The want of distinction in elementary books, between 
that sort of question which turns the voice upward, and that 
which turns it downward, must have been felt by every 
teacher even of children. 

Rule VIII. The language of authority, of surprise, and 
of distress, is commonly uttered with the falling inflection. 

1. The imperative mood, as used to express the commands 
of a superior, denotes that energy o2 thought which usually 
requires the falling slide ; as, 

Uzziel! half these draw off and coast the south, 

With strictest watch; these other, wheel the north. — 

— Ithuriel and Zephon ! With winged speed 

Search through this garden ; leave unsearch'd no nook. 

Up, comrades! up! — in Rokeby's halls 

Ne'er be it said our courage falls. 

2. Denunciation and reprehension, on the same principle, 
commonly require the falling inflection ; as, 

Wo unto you, Pharisees! Wo unto you, lawyers! But God said 
unto him, thou fool! — this night thy soul shall be required of thee. 
But Jesus said, Why tempt ye me, ye hypocrites ? Paul said to Ely- 
mus, O full of all subtlety and all mischief! 'Thou child of the Devil, 
— thou enemy of all righteousness ! 

Hen^e ! — home, you idle creatures, get you home. 

You blocks, you stones ! You worse than senseless things . 

This would be tame indeed, should we place the unem- 
phatic, rising slide on these terms of reproach, thus : 

You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things ! 

3. Exclamation, when it does not express tender emotion, 
nor ask a question, inclines to adopt the falling slide. 

Terror expresses itself in trrs way; as, 

Angels ! and ministers of grace, — defend us. 
Exclamation, denoting surprise, or reverence, or distress, — or a 



INFLECTIONS. 35 

combination of these different emotions, generally adopts the falling 
slide. For this reason I suppose that Mary, weeping at the sepulchre, 
when she perceived that the r ;«<m whom she had mistaken for the 
gardener, was the risen Saviour nimself, excVtimei with the tone of 
reverence and surprise, — Rabbdni! And the Lame inflection probably 
war i ised by the leprous men when they ^ried Jesus, Master 1 kave 
mercy on us ; instead of the colloquial tone Jesus, Master, which is 
commonly used in reading the passage, and which expresses nothing 
of the distress and earnestness which prompted this cry. These ex- 
amples are distinguished from the vocative case, when, it merely calls 
to attention, or denotes affection. 

Rule IX. Emphatic succession of particulars requires the 

falling slide. The reason is, that a distinctive utterance is 

necessary to fix the attention on each particular ; as, 

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity 
vaunteth not itself; is not puffed up ; doth not behave itself unseemly: 
seeketh not her own ; is not easily provoked ; thinketh no evil.- 
Thrice was I beaten with rods ; once was I stoned ; thrice I suffered 
shipwreck ; a night and a day have I been in the deep. 

In each of these examples, all the pauses except the 
last but one, (for the sake of harmony,) require the downward 
slide. 

Note 1. When the principle of emphatic series interferes with that 
of the suspending slide, one or the other prevails, according to the de- 
gree of emphasis; as, 

Though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, 
and all know* ledge 3 and though I hr,ve all faith, so that I could re- 
move mountains, and have net charity, I am nothing. 

The pains of getting, the fear of losing, and the inability of enjoy- 
ing his wealth, have made the miser a mark of satire, in all ages.* 

Note 2. Emphatic succession of particulars grows intensive as it 
goes on ; that is, on each succeeding emphatic word, the slide has 
more stress, and a higher note, than on the preceding ; thus, — 

I tell you, though N^ though all the \^, though an angel 

from \? should declare the truth of it, I could not believe it. 

* All rules of inflection as to a series of single words, when unem- 
phatic, are in nly opinion, worse than useless. No rule of harmonic 
inflection, that is independent ot sentiment, can be established with- 



36 INFLECTIONS. 

The rising slide, on the contrary, as it occurs in an emphatic 
series <;f direct questions, rises higher on each particular, as it pro- 
ceeds. 

Rule X. Emphatic repetition requires the falling slide. 

Whatever inflection is given to a word, in the first in- 
stance, when that word is repeated with stress, it demand? 
the falling slide. Thus in Julius Caesar, Cassius says ; 

You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus. 
The word wrong is slightly emphatic, with the falling slide, 
in the first clause; but in the second, it requires a double 
or tripleJorce of voice, with the same slide on a higher note, 
to express the meaning strongly. But the principle of this 
rule is more apparent still, when the repeated word changes 
its inflection. Thus I ask one at a distance, Are you going 
to Boston ? If he tells me that he did not hear my ques- 
tion, I repeat it with the other slide, Are you going to Bos- 
ton . ? * 

Rule XL The final pause requires the falling slide. 

That dropping of the voice which denotes the sense to 
be finished, is so commonly expected by the ear, that the 
worst readers make a cadence of some sort, at the close of 
a sentence. In respect to this, some general faults may 
be guarded against, though it is not possible to tell in ab- 
solute terms what a good cadence is, because, in different 
circumstances, it is modified by different principles of elo- 
cution. The most common fault in the cadence of bad 
speakers, consists in dropping the voice too uniformly to the 

out too much risk of an artificial habit, unless it be this one, that the 
voice should rise at the last pause before the cadence ; and even this 
may be superseded by emphasis. 

* In colloquial language, the point I am illustrating is quite familiar 
to every ear. The teacher calls a pupil by name in the rising inflec- 
tion, and not being heard, repeats the call in the falling. The answer 
to such a call, if it is a mere response, is " Sir ;"- if it expresses 
doubt, it is " Sir" A question that is nol understood is repeated with 
a louder voice and a change of slide : " Is this your book ? Is this you? 
bodk?" Little children with their first elements of speech, make this 
distinction perfectly. 



CIRCUMFLEX. e 37 

same note. The next consists in dropping it too much. 
The next, in dropping it too far from the end of the sen- 
tence, or beginning the cadence too soon ; and another still 
consists in that feeble and indistinct manner of closing sen- 
tences, which is common to men unskilled in managing the 
voice. 

We should take care also to mark the difference between that down- 
ward turn of the voice which occurs at the falling slide in the middle 
af a sentence, and that which occurs at the close. The latter is made 
on a lower note, and if emphasis is absent, with less spirit than the 
former; As, " This heavenly benefactor claims, not the homage ol 
our lips, bat of our hearts ; and who can doubt that he is entitled to 
the homage of our hearts." Here the word hearts has the same slide 
in the middle of the sentence as at the close. Though it has a much 
lower note in the latter case than in the former. 

It must be observed too that the hnal pause does not always require 
a cadence. When the strong emphasis with the falling slide comes 
near the end of a sentence, it turns the voice upward at the close ; as, 
" If we have no regard to our own character, we ought to have some 
regard to the character of others. 1 '' " You were paid to fight against 
Alexander, not to rail at him." This is a departure from a general 
rule of elocution ; but it is only one case among many, in which em- 
phasis asserts its supremacy over any other principle, that interferes 
with its claims. Indeed, any one, who has given but little attention to 
this point, would be surprised to observe accurately, how often sen- 
tences are closed, in conversation, without any proper cadence ; the 
voice being carried to a high note, on the last word, sometimes with a 
falling, and sometimes with the rising slide. 

Circumflex. 

Rule XII. The circumflex occurs chiefly where the 
language is either hypothetical or ironical. 

The most common use of it is to express, indefinitely 
or conditionally, some idea that is contrasted with another 
idea, expressed or understood, to which the falling slide be- 
longs ; thus ; — Hume said he would go twenty miles, to hear 
Whitefield preach. The contrast suggested by the circum- 
flex here is j though he would take no pains to hear a common 
preacher. 

You ask a physician concerning your friend who is dangerously 
sick, and receive this reply. — He is better. The circumflex denotes 
only a partial, doubtful amendment, and implies But he Is still daw 
gerously sick. The same turn of voice occurs in the following exam- 
ple, on the word importunity. 

4 



38 ACCENT. 

" Though he will not rise and give him, because, he i- his friend, 
yet, because of his importunity, he will rise and give him as many as 
he needeth." 

The circumflex, when indistinct, coincides nearly with the rising 
slide ; when distinct, it denotes qualified affirmation instead of that 
which is fosiuve, as marked by the falling slide. 



CHAPTER IV. 

ACCENT. 

Accent is a stress laid on particular syllable**, to promote 
harmony and distinctness of articulation. The syllable on 
which accent shall be placed, is determined by custom ; and 
that without any regard to the meaning of words, except in 
these few cases. 

Where the same word in form, has a different sense, ac- 
cording to the seat of the accent; as, desert, (a wilderness) 
desert', (merit.) — Or the accent may distinguish between the 
same word used as a noun or an adjective ; as cow pact, (an 
agreement) compact, (close). Or it may distinguish the 
noun from the verb, thus: 

Abstract to abstract err 'port to export' 

The seat of accent may be transposed by emphasis ; as, 

He must mcrease, but I must decrease. 

This corruptible must put on wicorruplion. 

What fellowship hath righteousness with ^righteousness 1 

The accented syllable of a word is always uttered with a louder 
note than the rest. When the syllable has the rising inflection, the slide 
continues upward till the word is finished ; so that when several sylla- 
bles of a word follow the accenU they rise to a higher note than thai 
which is acojnted ; and when the accented syllable is the last in a ivord, 
it is also the highest. But when the accented syllable has the falling 
slide, it is always struck with a higher note than any other syllable in 
that word. 



Thus: — rising slide. 

Did he dare to propose such interrtfg «2> 






EMPHASIS. . 39 



Here the slide which begins on fog, continues to rise on the three fol- 
lowing* syllables; but, in the question, Will you go to-day 1 the same 
slide terminates with the syllable on which it begins. 
In the falling slide, thus ; 

The testimony was given not by narrative, but by inter %,.. 



CHAPTER V. 
EMPHASIS. 

Emphasis is governed by the laws of sentiment, being 
inseparably associated with thought and emotion. It is the 
most important principle, by which elocution is related to 
the operations of mind. Hence when it stands opposed to 
the claims of custom or of harmony, these always give way 
to its supremacy. 

Now I presume that every one, who is at all accustomed 
to accurate observation on this subject, must be sensible 
how very little this grand principle is regarded in forming 
our earliest habits of elocution ; and therefore how hopeless 
are all efforts to correct what is wrong in these habits, with- 
out a just knowledge of emphasis. 

What then is emphasis % It is a distinctive utterance of 
words, tohich are especially significant, with such a degree 
and kind of stress, as conveys their meaning in the best 
manner. 

According to this definition, I would include the whole 
subject under emphatic stress and emphatic inflection. 

Sect. 1. — Emphatic Stress. 

This consists chiefly in the loudness of the note, but 
includes also the time in which important words are uttered. 
A good reader or speaker, when he utters a word on 



40 EMPHATIC STRESS. 

which the meaning of a sentence is suspended, spontaneously 
dwells on that word, according to the intensity of its mean- 
ing. The significance and weight which he thus attaches 
to words that are important, is a very different thing from 
the abrupt and jerking emphasis, which is often witnessed in 
a bad delivery. 

It is generally true that a subordinate rank belongs to " 
particles, and to all those words which merely express some 
circumstance of a thought. And when a word of this sort 
is raised above its relative importance, by an undue stress 
in pronunciation, we perceive a violence done to other wo r ds 
of more significance. 

Thus; 

Show pity, Lord, O Lord, forgive, 
Let a repenting rebel live. 

But to show that emphasis attaches itself not to the part 
of speech, but to the meaning of a word, let one of these 
little words become important in sense, and then it demands 
a corresponding stress of voice; as: 

" Then said the high priest, are these things so ?" 

Again ; 

" Paul had determined to sail by Ephesus." 

This sentence, with a moderate stress on Ephesus, implies 
that the Apostle meant to stop there ; just as a common 
phrase, " the ship is going to Holland by Liverpool," — im- 
plies that she will touch at the latter place. 

But an emphatic stress on by expresses the true sense, 
namely that he did not mean to stop there, thus ; " Paul had 
determined to sail by Ephesus." 

In the ease that follows too, we see how the meaning of a sentence 
often depends on the manner in which we utter one short word. 
;< One of the servants of the high priest, (being his kinsman whose 
ear Peter cut off,) saith, did not I see thee in the garden with him'?" 
Now if we utter this, as most readers do, with a stress on kinsman, 
and a short pause after it, we make the sentence affirm that the man 
whose ear Peter cut off was kinsman to the high priest, which was not 
the fact. But a stress upon his, makes this servant, kinsman to 
another man. who received the wound. 



ABSOLUTE EMPHATIC STRESS. 41 

These illustrations show that the principle of emphatic stress is 
perfectly simple ; and that it falls on a particular word, not chiefly 
Because that word belongs to one or another class in grammar, but 
because, in the present case, it is important in sense. To designate 
the words that are thus important, by the action of the voice in em- 
phasis, is just what the etymological import of this term implies, 
namely, to show, to point out, to make manifest. 

But farther to elucidate a subject, that has been treated with much 
obscurity, emphatic stress may be distinguished into that which is 
absolute, and that which is antithetic or relative. 

Absolute emphatic stress. * 

Walker, and others who have been implicitly guided by 
his authority, without examination, lay down the broad po- 
sition, that emphasis always implies antithesis; and that it 
can never be proper to give emphatic stress to a word, unless 
it stands opposed to something in sense. 

The theory which supposes this, is too narrow. to cor- 
respond with the philosophy of elocution. Emphasis is the 
soul of delivery, because it is the most discriminating mark 
of emotion. Contrast is among the sources of emotion : and 
the kind of contrast really intended by Walker and others, 
namely, that of affirmation and negation, it is peculiarly the 
province of emphasis to designate. But this is not the whole 
of its province. There are other sources, besides antithetic 
relation, from which the mind receives strong and vivid im- 
pressions, which it is the office of vocal language to express. 
Thus exclamation, apostrophe, and bold figures in general, 
denoting high emotion, demand a correspondent force in 
pronunciation: and that too in many cases where the em« 
phatic force laid on a word is absolute, because the thought 
expressed by that word is forcible of itself, without any aid 
from contrast. 

Thus; 

Up ! comrades — up I — 
Wo unto you, Pharisees! 
Hence ! — home, you idle creatures. 
~ Angels I and ministers of grace,— defend us 
4* 



42 ANTITHETIC OR RELATIVE STRESS. 

Antithetic or relative stress. 

The principle on which the stress depends in this case, 
will be evident from a few examples. 

Siudy, not so much to show knowledge as to acquire it. 

He that cannot bear a jest, should not make one. 

It is not so easy to hide one's faults, as to mend them. 

We think less of the injuries we do, than of those we suffer. 

It is not so difficult to talk well, as to live well. 

When the antithetic terms in a sentence are both ex- 
pressed, the mind instantly perceives the opposition between 
them, and the voice as readily marks the proper distinction. 
But when only one of these terms is expressed, the other is 
to be made out by reflection ; and in proportion to the ease 
or difficulty with which this antithetic relation is perceived 
by the mind, the emphatic sense is more or less vivid. On 
this principle, when a word expresses one part of a contrast, 
while it only suggests the other, that word must be spoken 
with a force adapted to its peculiar office ; and this is the 
very case where the power of emphasis rises to its highest 
point. Examples. 

I that deny'd thee gold, will give my heart. 
Here the antithetic terms gold and heart, being both expressed, a com- 
mon emphatic stress on these, makes the sense obvious. But in the 
following case, only one part of the antithesis is expressed. Brutus 
says, 

You wrong'd yourself, to write In such a case. 

The strong emphasis on yourself, implies that Cassius thought him- 
self injured by some other person. Accordingly we see in the prece- 
ding sentence his charge against Brutus, — "you have wronged me." 

Again, Brutus says to Cassius, 

You have done that you should be sorry for. 
With a slight stress upon sorry, this implies that he had done wrong, 
but suggests nothing of the antithetic meaning, denoted by the true 
emphasis, thus, 

You have done that you should be sorry for. 

This emphasis on the tormer word implies, " Not only are you 
liable to do wrong, but you have done so already;" on the latter 
it implies, " though you are nU sorry, you ought to be sorry." 
This was precisely the meaning of Brutus, for he replied to a threat 
of Cassius, " I may do that I shall be sorry for." 



EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 43 

Sect. 2. — Emphatic Inflection. 

Thus far our view of emphasis has been limited to the 
degree of stress with which emphatic words are spoken. 
But this is only a part of the subject. The kind of stress, 
is not less important to the sense, than the degree. Let 
any one glance his eye over the examples of the foregoing 
pages, and he will see that strong emphasis demands, in all 
cases, an appropriate inflection; and that to change this in- 
flection perverts the sense. This will be perceived at once 
in the following case, " We must take heed not only to 
what we say, but to what we dd." By changing this slide, 
and laying the falling on say and the rising on do, every 
ear must feel that violence is done to the meaning. So in 
this case, 

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars; 
But in ourselves, that we are underlings; 

the rising inflection or circumflex on stars and the falling 
inflection on ourselves is so indispensable, that no reader of 
the least taste would mistake the one for the other. But 
the principle which I wish to illustrate, will be more obvi- 
ous, by recurring to the case recently mentioned, in which 
one part of a contrast is expressed, and the other only sug- 
gested ; so that the whole meaning of a sentence depends 
on the emphatic inflection given to a single word. A strong 
example of this has already been given in the perversion oi 
sense which would arise from wrong inflection on the word 
Irunkard; see the close of Rule IV. p. 32. Another ex- 
ample we have in Paul's exhortation to Christian servants ; 
" And they that have believing masters, let them not des- 
pise them, because they are brethren; but rather do them 
service, &c. 5: The meaning is, their being fellow Chris- 
tians, is no reason why they should be disobeyed as masters ; 
and this the rising slide on brethren expresses. The falling 
slide would express a very different sense, namely, that 



44 EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 

this Christian relation is a sufficient reason why the servants 
should not despise their masters. Again, a distinguished 
writer says of some conceited men ; " They have not pa- 
tience to read a book, till they thoroughly understand it." 
His meaning is, they never read it so as to understand ; an£ 
this the rising slide expresses. But the other slide would 
imply, that they have patience to read it, after they under- 
stand it. 

One more question remains to be answered ; how shall 
we know when an emphatic word demands the rising, and 
when the falling inflection ? 

If the reader has studied the Rules of Inflection 
which begin at p. 29, he can seldom be at a loss to answer 
this question for himself. According to established laws of 
voice, he will know what inflection to give emphatic words, 
when connected by the disjunctive or ; — as, " Will you ride, 
or walk . ? " So when the direct question and answer occur ; 
— as, " Armed, say you? Armed, my lord." — So when ne- 
gation is opposed to affirmation ; — as " He will not come 
to-day, but to-morrow." 

Besides these general remarks, it may be added, that the 

voice instinctively accompanies emphatic, positive affirmation, 

with the falling slide, and the antithetic negation with the 

rising. 

But there is a large class of sentences, in which qualified affirm- 
ation demands the rising turn of voice, often where an antithetic 
object is suggested or expressed hypothelicajly. It is not the simple 
rising slide, but the circumflex, which designates this sort of empha- 
sis. The two indeed, may fall on shades of thought so nearly the 
same, that it is immaterial which is used; while in other cases the 
office of the circumflex is so peculiar as to make it quite perceptible 
to an ear of any discrimination. Every good reader will make this 
distinction between the first and second instances in which heaven 
occurs, in the following example; " The baptism of John, was it 
from heaven, or of men'? and they said, if we shall say from heaven, 
he will say, why then did ye not believe him V The plain distinc- 
tion between the rising and the falling emphasis, when antithetic 
relation is expressed or suggested, is, the falling denotes positive 
affirmation or enunciation of a thought with energy; the rising 
either expresses negation, or qualified and conditional affirmation. In 
the latter case the antithetic object, if there is one, may be sug- 



EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 45 

jested ironically, or hypothetically, or comparatively ; thus — 
Ironically ; 

They tell us to be moderate j but they, they are to revel in profusion. 

Hypothetically ; 

If men see our faults, they will talk among themselves, though we 
l efuse to let them talk to ils. 

Comparatively ; 

The beggar was blind, as well as lame. 
He is more knave than fool. 

In such a connexion of two correlate words, whether in contrast 
or comparison, the most prominent of the two in sense, that in which 
the essence of the thought lies, commonly has the strong, falling em- 
phasis ; and that which expresses something subordinate or circum- 
stantial, has the rising. The same rising or circumflex emphasis pre- 
vails where the thought is conditional, or something is implied ->r in- 
sinuated, rather than strongly expressed. 

The amount is, that generally the weaker emphasis, where there is 
tender, or conditional, or partial enunciation of thought, requires the 
voice to rise ; while the strong emphasis, where the thought is bold, 
and the language positive, adopts the falling slide, except where some 
counteracting principle occurs, as in the interrogative inflection. In 
all such cases, explanation becomes obscurity, if carried out of its 
proper limits. Beyond these, I can no more tell why sorrow or sup- 
plication incline the voice to the rising slide, while indignation or 
command incline it to the falling, than I can tell why one emotion 
flashes in the eye, and another vents itself in tears. Nor is it reason- 
able to demand such explanations on this subject, as are not expected 
on any other. The logician rests in his consciousness and his expe- 
rience as the basis of argument; and philosophy no more requires or 
allows us to push our inquiries beyond first principles or facts, in elo- 
cution, than in logic. 

Emphatic Clause. 

It will be readily perceived that the stresj proper to he 
laid on any single word, depends much on the comparative 
stress with which other words in the same sentence are 
pronounced. A whisper, if it is soft or strong, according to 
sense, may be as truly discriminating as the loudest tones. 
The voice should be disciplined to this distinction, in order 
to avoid the common fault, which confounds vociferation 
with emphatic expression. 



46 EMPHATIC ARTICULATION. 

But there are cases in which more than common stress 
belongs to several words in succession, forming an emphatic 
clause. In some cases of this sort, the several syllables have 
nearly equal stress : thus ; 



-Heaven and earth will witness, 



If — Rome — must — fall, — that we are innocent, 
again ; 

Could we but climb where Moses stood, 

And view the landscape o'er, 

Not Jordan's stream, nor death's — cold — flood, 

Should fright us from the shore. 

In uttering the emphatic clause, in these cases, the voice 
drops its pitch, and proceeds nearly in a grave, deliberate 
monotone. 

In other cases, such a clause is to be distinguished from 
the rest of the sentence, by a general increase of force ; 
and yet its words retain a relative difference among them- 
selves, in quantity, stress, and inflection. One example 
may make this last remark still plainer. Suppose Paul 
to have said merely, " I came not to baptize, but to preach" 
The contrast expressed, limits the emphasis to two words. 
But take the whole sentence, as it is in Paul's language, 
" I came not to baptize, but to preach the gospel ;" — and 
you have a contrast between an emphatic word, and an em- 
phatic clause. And though the sense is just as before, you 
must change the stress in this clause from preach to gospel, 
or you utter nonsense. If you retain the stress on preach, 
the paraphrase is " I came not to baptize the gospel, but to 
preach the gospel." 

Double Emphasis. 

This is always grounded on antithetic relation, expressed 
in pairs of contrasted objects. It w r ill be sufficiently illus- 
trated by a very few examples. 

" The young are slaves to novelty, the old to custom" 



MODULATION. 47 

" / nd why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother 's eye, but 
considerest not the beam that is j. thine own eye'*" 

There is but one remark, which is important to b, made in ths 
case. In attempting- to give the utmost significance to ea"ch of the 
terms, standing in close succession, we are in danger of diminishing 
the amount of meaning, expressed by the whole. The only rule that 
can be adopted is, so to adjust the stress and inflection of voice, on 
the different terms, as shall most clearly, and yet most agreeably con- 
vey the sense of the entire passage. There is still another kind of 
sentences, in which there occurs what I would call cumulative 
emphasis. This consists of a complex thought, made up of particu- 
lars, expressed in a succession of emphatic words. A striking example 
of this we have in Paul's indignant reply to the message from the 
magistrates, that he and his associates, unjustly imprisoned, might be 
released, and go quietly away. " But Paul said, they have beaten us, 
openly, unconde?/ined, being Ro?nans, and have cast us into prison ; and 
now do they thrust us oat privily ? nay verily; but let them come 
themselves, and fetch us out." 

Here there is no difficulty from that antithetic mixing of terms just 
now alluded to. 



CHAPTER VI. 

MODULATION. 

This includes a number of distinct topics, which may 
perhaps with sufficient exactness be brought together in one 
chapter. 

Sect. 1. — Faults of Modulation. 

1. Monotony. The monotone, employed with skill, in 
pronouncing a simile, or occasionally an elevated or for- 
cible thought, may have, great rhetorical effect; just as 
other movements of the voice, are felt to be proper, when 
they are prompted by genius and emotion. But the thing 
I mean to condemn, is that dull repetition of sounds, on the 
same pitch, and with the same quantity, which the hearers 
ascribe to want of spirit in the speaker. Want of variety is 
fatal to vivacity and interest in delivery, on the same prin- 
cipal that it is so in all other cases. In music, a succession 



48 MODULATION. 

of perfect concords, especially on the same note, would be 
intolerable. 

2. Mechanical variety. An unskilful reader, perhaps 
resolved to avoid monotony, may think nothing more is 
necessary, than to employ the greatest possible number of 
' notes ; and thus his chief aim is to leap from one extreme 
to another of his voice. In a short time, this attempt at 
variety becomes a regular return of similar notes, at stated 
intervals. 

Another defect, of the same sort, arises from an attempt to 
produce variety by a frequent and arbitrary change of stress. 
But here too the only advantage gained is, that we exchange 
an absolute for a relative sameness ; for the favorite stress 
returns periodically, without regard to sense. 

There is still another kind of this uniform variety, which 
is extremely common. It consists in the habit of striking a 
sentence at the beginning, with a high and full voice, which 
becomes gradually weaker and lower, as the sentence proceeds, 
especially if it has much length, till it is closed perhaps with 
one quarter of the impulse with which it commenced. Then 
the speaker, at the beginning of a new sentence, inflates his 
lungs, and pours out a full volume of sound, for a few words, 
sliding downwards again, to a feeble close. 

Sect. 2. — Remedies. 

1. The most indispensable attainment, towards the cure 
of bad habits in managing the voice, is the spirit of empha- 
sis. Suppose a student of elocution to have a scholastic 
tone, or some other of the faults mentioned above ; — teacn 
him emphasis, and you have taken the most direct way to 
remove the defect. It is difficult to give a particular illus- 
tration of my meaning, except by the living voice ; but the 
experiment is worthy of a trial, to see if the faulty manner 
cannot be represented to the eye. Read the following pas- 



MODULATION. 49 

sage from the Spectator;* recollecting, at the beg. nning of 
each sentence, to strike the words in the largest type, with a 
high and full voice, gradually sinking away in pitch and 
qua, lity, as the type diminishes, to the close. 



EXAMPLE. 

OUR SIGHT IS THE MOST PERFECT, and most de- 
lightful, of all our senses. IT FILLS THE MIND WITH 
THE LARGEST VARIETY OF IDEAS, converses witb 
ITS objects at the greatest distance, and continues 

THE LONGEST IN ACTION. WITHOUT BEING TIRED OR SATIATED 
WITH ITS PROPER ENJOYMENTS. THE SENSE OF FEELING 
CAN INDEED GIVE US A NOTION OF EXTENSION, SHAPE, 
AND ALL OTHER IDEAS THAT ENTER AT THE EYE. EXCEPT COLOURS. 

AT THE SAME TIME, it is very much confined in its 

OPERATIONS, TO THE NUMBER, BULK, AND DISTANCE OF ITS PAR- 
TICULAR OBJECTS. 



If you suczeed in understanding the above illustration, then 
vary the trial on the same example, with a view to another 
fault, the periodic stress and tone. Take care to speak the 
words printed in small capitals with a note sensibly higher 
and stronger than the rest, dropping the voice immediately 
after these elevated words, into an undulating tone, on the 
following syllables, — thus : 



Our sight is the most nerfect, and most delightful, of all our senses. 
It fills tLe mind with the largest variety of ideas, converses with 
its object at the greatest distance, and continues the longest in action, 
without being tired or satiated with its proper enjoyments. The sense 
of feeling can ind pd give us a notion of extension, shape, and all 
other ideas that e> ;er at the eye, except colors. At the saaie time, it 

♦ No. 411. 
5 



50 MODULATION. 

is very much confined in its operations, to the numbe/, rULK and dis- 
tance of its particular objects.* 

It is necessary now to give this same passage once more, 
so distinguishing the chief words, by the Italic character, as 
to exhibit the true pronunciation. 

O r sight is the most perfect, and most delightful, of all our senses. 
It fills the mind with the largest variety of ideas ; converses with its 
objects at the greatest distance ; and continues the longest in action, 
without being tired or satiated with its proper enjoyments. The sense 
of feeling can indeed give us a notion of extension, shape, and all other 
ideas that enter at the eye, except colors. At the same time, it is very 
much confined in its operations, to the number, bulk, and distance of its 
particular objects. 

Bat as no word in the foregoing passage, is strongly emphatic, my 
meaning may be more evident from an example or two, where a dis- 
criminating stress on a single word, determines the manner in which 
the following words are to be spoken. 

Take this couplet from Pope, and read it first with the metrical ac 
cent and tone, thus ; 

What the weak head, with strongest bias rules, 
Is pride, the never failing vice of fools. 

Now let it be observed, that in these lines there is really but one em- 
phatic word, namely pride. If we mark this with the strong emphasis, 
and the falling inflection, the following words will of necessity be 
spoken as they should be, diopping a note or two below the key notr 
of the sentence,t and proceeding nearly on a monotone to the end ;- 
tnusj 

What the weak head, with strongest bias rules, 



Is %£ 



the never failing vice of fools. 



* Walker's ear, though in cases of emphatic inflection, very discrim- 
inating, seems in other cases to have been perverted by his theory of 
harmonic inflection, as appears from his manner of pronouncing the 
following couplet, which nearly coincides with the tone I am condemn- 
ing. 

A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, 
And greatly falling with a falling state. 

t By key note, I mean the prevailing note, that which you heaj* when 
a man reads aloud in another room, while you cannot distinguish any 
words that he utters. 



PITCH OF VOICE. 51 

Another example may help to render this more intelligible. 

Must we the author of the public caldm % 

<£, 
Or must we des % 

the author of the public calamities 1 

In pronouncing these examples, if the proper sound is given to the 
emphatic words, all the rest must be spoken essentially as here described. 
It follows that the most direct means of curing artificial tones, is to 
acquire a correct emphasis. But, — 

2. In order to this, another attainment seems indispens- 
able, namely, s.me good degree of discrimination as to 
vocal tones and inflections. 

Some, who can imitate a sound, immediately after hearing it from 
another voice, suppose this to be the only way in which it can be done. 
But let a thousand persons, who understand the English language, 
repeat the familiar question, " Do you expect to go, or stay?" — And 
will not every one of the thousand give the same turn of voice on the 
words in Italics? Where is the difficulty then of placing such a mark 
on these turns of voice, that they may be transferred to any other 
wordl This simple principle suggested to Walker his notatio: of 
sounds for the eye; and incomplete as it is, something of the kind is 
so necossary to the student of elocution, that, without it, the aid of a 
living teacher cannot supply the defect. And in most cases, nothing 
is wanting to derive advantage from such a theory but a little patience 
and perseverance in its application. 

Sect. 3. — Pitch of Voice. 

This is a relative modification of voice; by which we 
mean that high or low note, which prevails in speaking, 
and which has a governing influence upon the whole scale 
of notes employed. In every one's voice, this governing 
note varies with circumstances, but it is sufficiently exact 
to consider it a3 threefold ; the upper pitch, used in call- 
ing to one at a distance; the middle, used in conversation; 
and the lower, used in cadence, or in a grave, emphatic un- 
der key. Exertion of voice on the first, exposes it to break ; 
and on the last, renders articulation thick and difficult, and 



52 QUANTITY. 

leaves no room for compass below the pitch. The middle 
key, or that which we spontaneously adopt in earnest 
conversation, allows the greatest variety and energy in 
speaking. 

Whether thts is high or low, compared with that of another man, 
is not essential, provided it be not in extreme. Among the first secular 
orators of Britain, some have spoken on the grave, bass-key; while 
Pitt's voice, it is said, was a full tenor, and Fox's a treble. 

Tne voice that is on a bass-key, if clear and well toned, has some 
advantages in point of dignity. But a high tone, uttered w^h the same 
effort of lungs, is more audible than a low one. Without referring 'o 
other proofs of this, the fact just now mentioned is sufficient; that we 
spontaneously raise our key, in calling to one at a distance; for the 
simple reason that we instinctively know he will be more likely to 
hear us, in a high note than a low one. So universal is this instinct, 
that we may observe it in very little children, and even in the call and 
response of the parent bird and her young, and in most brute animals 
that have voice. 

The influence of emotion on the voice, is also among the philoso- 
phical considerations pertaining to this subject. A man under strong 
intellectual excitement, walks with a firmer and quicker step than 
when he is cool; and the same excitement which braces the muscles, 
and gives energy to the movements of the body, has a correspondent 
effect on the movements of the voice. Earnestness in common con- 
versation assumes a higher note, as it proceeds, though the person 
addressed is at no greater distance than before. 

A practical corollary from these suggestions is, that the speaker or 
reader should avoid a high pitch, at the beginning, lest he n-e, with 
the increase of interest, to painful and unmanageable elevation. 

The proper means of avoiding extremes, is to learn the distinction 
between force and elevation; and to acquire the power of swelling the 
voice on a low note. This introduces our next topic of consideration. 



Sect. 4. — Quantity. 

This term I use, not in the restricted sense of gramma- 
rians and prosodists, but as including rotundity and fulness 
of tone, loudness, and time. 

Rotundity and fulness. — As to inflection, emphasis 
and the varied adaptation of tones to sentiment, the only 
laws of voice, in deliberate speaking and reading, that can 
be considered as natural, are derived from conversation. But 
in another respect, the habits acquired from this source, 
occasion some of the most stubborn difficulties, which the 



QUANTITY. 53 

learner in elocution has to surmount. For, to what pur 
pose has he been accustomed to use his voice? Almost 
exclusively in a hurried utterance of a sentence or two at 
once, to an individual, or a small number of persons, so 
near him, or so well acquainted with what he is saying, as 
to understand him, though it be but half spoken. Thus, 
by using his voice only in conversation, (excepting occa- 
sionally, when he has opened his organs to a fuller note, in 
speaking a word or two, to some one at a distance,) he has 
been confirmed in a rapid, indistinct, feeble enunciation 
of the chief elementary sounds. But when he comes to 
train his organs, in exercises of elocution; that is, when he 
comes to read or speak any thing, so that it may be audible 
and interesting to a considerable number of hearers, a new 
task is imposed on his vocal powers. Cost what it may, he 
must exchange the clipping, slurring, jerking sounds of fire- 
side talk, for a clear, open articulation, or he cannot speak 
nor read well. Dignity and force in delivery, depend much 
on the power of filling, and swelling, and protracting an 
open vowel sound ; but no one attains this power, without 
pains and care ; and without a process different from any 
thing that is ordinarily acquired in conversation. 

It requires very little skill in sounds, to perceive that a 
in hat, is shorter than a in hate ; that is, in the former case, 
the organs pass quickly over the vowel to the consonant, — 
in the latter, tr^re is more continuance on the vowel. Now 
this continuance may be protracted, more or less, at plea- 
sure ; for it requires only that we begin the sound of a in 
hate, and keeping the organs in exactly the same posi- 
tion, let the stream of sound proceed ; thus, — ha . . . . te, 

ha te. Just* so, if you bring the organs to 

the proper position, and begin the sound of a in hat, you 
may protract it through the whole stream of breathy if you 
please, before the t is spoken, — ha t. 

But as every experiment of this kind implies a longer 



54 QUANTITY. 

note on the vowel sound, and tends almost of course to a 
louder and higher note, it will be better illustrated in con- 
nexion with the following articles. 

Loudness. — In theory, perhaps, every one can easily un- 
derstand, that a sound may be either loud or soft, on the 
same note. The only difference, for example, betwixt the 
sound produced by a heavy stroke, and a gentle one, on the 
same bell, is in the quantity or momentum. This distinction 
as applied to music", is perfectly familiar to all acquainted 
with that art. As applied to elocution, however, it is not so 
easily made ; for it is a common thing for speakers to con- 
found high sounds with loud, and low with soft. Hence we 
often hear it remarked of one, that he speaks in a low voice, 
when the meaning is, a feeble one ; and perhaps if he were 
told that he is not loud enough, he would instantly raise his 
key, instead of merely increasing his quantity on the same 
note. 

If any one, who has given no attention to this point, thinks it too 
easy to demand attention, he may be better satisfied by a single ex- 
periment. Let him take this line of Shakspeare, 

O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome ! 
and read it first in a voice barely audible. Then let him read it again 
and again, on r he same pitch, doubling his quantity or impulse of 
sound, at each repetition, and he will find that it requires great care 
and management to do this, without raising his voice to a higher note. 

Strength of voice depends on the possession of perfect vocal organs, 
and on the due exercise of these. 

The lungs, trachea, larynx, glottis, and epiglottis, are organs of 
sound, but not of speech, without the aid of others, namely the tongue, 
palate, lips, teeth, and nostrils, which are also organs of articulation. 
When these organs are all good, the voice of a speaker has some- 
times been trained to such power as to be distinctly heard by twenty 
thousand people. 

To strengthen the voice by exercise, observe these directions; 
(1) Whenever you use your voice on commoi occasions, use as much 
voice as propriety will permit. (2) Read aloud, as a staled exercise. 
(3) Avoid all extreme efforts of lungs, especially in case-s of hoarse- 
ness. (4) Avoid habits that injure the lungs, — such as attitudes of 
study, that cramp the vital functions; stimulating food or drinks, in 
connexion with speaking; and sudden exposure to cold air, when the 
jumgs are healed. 

Time. — The reader is desired here to turn back to the 



QUANTITY. 55 

remarks which I made, p. 53, on the words hat and hate, 
exemplifying the protraction of sound in a long vowel. 
That he may the better understand my meaning, let him 
suppose himself listening to a military officer, at the head of 
a brigade, giving the word of command, march. The only 
way in which he can possibly utter this word, so as to be 
heard by several thousand men, is so to manage the only 
vowel in it, as to expend upon it the fall power of his voice. 
To do this, he must not clip off the a, as he might in conver- 
sation, but must strike it on that key note where his voice 
has most strength, and then protract this broad, ooen sound, 
perhaps for two seconds, before he touches the consonants 

which follow ; thus, — Ma rch. The case is just 

the same with the still broader vowel sound, in the word 
halt, as uttered in military command. 

That there is no impossibility in acquiring this power of 
protracting and swelling any open sound, is evident from the 
fact, that it is constantly done in music, when a pointed semi- 
breve holds the voice to one continuous note, perhaps for 
three seconds. 

But as discipline of the voice on unmeaning, elementary 
sounds, seems an arbitrary, and somewhat forbidding exer- 
cise, I shall set down a few brief examples, in which senti- 
ment and emotion demand the above distinctions to be made, 
as to fulness, loudness, and time. These are intended as 
mere specimens, from which the reader will easily under- 
stand how to select others of similar character, from the 
Exercises, under different heads, especially Transition. 
These it will also be observed are taken from cases of excla- 
mation, or other strong emotion, and addressed for the most 
part to persons supposed to be at a distance, requiring a full, 
loud note, on the emphatic words. 

He woke to hear his sentry's shriek, 

To arms ! — they come ! the Greek ! — the Greek ! 



56 COMPASS OF VOICE. 

Farewell, happy fields. 



Where joy forever dwells. Hail, horrors ! — Hail ! 
N Infernal world! 

He shook the fragment of his blade, 

And shouted Victory ! 

Charge! Chester, Charge! On, Stanley, On! 

Zophiel, -in mid air, aloud thus cried, 

Arm, warriors! Arm, for fight. 

Satan was heard commanding loud; 

Vanguard ! to right and left the front unfold.* 

But the reader must now be reminded, that while it is 
often indispensable to prolong, and fill out the sound of a 
word, under strong emphasis, it would be preposterous to 
speak common words in this manner. 

No variety of tones could produce the thrilling effects of music if 
every note were a semibreve. So in elocution, if every word and 
syllable were uttered with the same length, the uniformity would be 
as intolerable as the worst monotony. 

The easy flow of delivery, requires that particles, and subordinate 
syllables, should be touched as lightly as is consistent with distinct- 
ness; while both sentiment and harmony demand, that the voice 
should throw an increase of quantity upon important words by rest- 
ing on them, or by swell and protraction of sound, or both. He whose 
voice habitually prolongs short syllables, and such words as and, from, 
to, the, &c. must be a heavy speaker. 

But time, in elocution, has a larger application than that which re- 
spects words and clauses, I mean that which respects the general roAe 
of delivery, in this case, it is not practicable, as in music, nor per- 
haps desirable, to establish a fixed standard, to which every reader or 
speaker shall conform. The habits of different men may differ con- 
siderably in rate of utterance, without being chargeable with fault. 
But I refer rather to the difference which emotion will produce, in 
the rate of the same individual. I have said before, that those pas- 
sions which quicken or retard a man's step in walking, will produce 
a similar effect on his voice in speaking. Narration is equable and 
flowing; vehemence, firm and accelerated; anger and joy, rapid. 
Whereas dignity, authority, sublimity, awe, — assume deeper tones, 
and a slower movement. "Accordingly we sometimes hear a good 
reaier or speaker, when there is some sudden turn of thought, check 
himself in the full current of utterance, and give indescribable power 
to a sentence, or part of a sentence, by dropping his voice, and adopt- 
ing a slow, full pronunciation. 

Sect. 5. — Compass of Voice. 

In this I refer to the range of notes, above and below 

* See Appendix for more examples, under this head. 



COMPASS OF VOICE. 57 

the governing or natural key, which are required by a 
spirited and diversified delivery. 

Sometimes from inveterate habit, and sometimes from 
incapacity of the organs, the voice has a strong, clear bot- 
tom, without any compass upwards. In other cases, it has 
a good top, but no compass below its key. Extreme in- 
stances to the contrary there may be, but commonly, I have 
no doubt that when a speaker uses only a note or two, above 
and below the key, it arises from habit, and not from organic 
defect. 

Directions on this subject would be comparatively easy, if all who 
need them were acquainted with music. But experience taught me 
long ago, that no theories in elocution, which presuppose learners in 
this art to possess skill in musical sounds, can be generally useful. 
Multitudes must be taught reading and speaking, who cannot accu- 
rately distinguish musical intervals of notes. Those who can do it, 
will find great facility in cultivating quantity and compass of voice. 
To such I recommend a course of experiments on different vowel 
sounds, such as occur in the examples ot emphatic words under the 
last head. Thus, begin with hail, and speak it rather feebly, on the 
lowest note of your voice. Then repeat it, a note higher, and so on 
through the octave, but still in a small voice. Then do the same 
thing with increas( of strength, as you raise the note, that is, growijg 
louder as you proceed. Finally, do the same thing with a view to 
prolongation of sound, uttering the word hail, with one beat, then with 
two, three, &c. If you attempt to combine in one experiment, com- 
pass, loudness, and length of sound, the trial of voice will be severe, 
and should be continued but a short time at once. 

When this experiment is finished, it may be renewed on other 
words, as arm, charge, hope; the ultimate aim being in each case, to 
accustom the voice to notes high and loio, loud and long. 

When the student has ascertained his compass, by such experiments 
on single words, he may then practice reading passages of some 
length, on that part of his voice which he especially wishes to im- 
prove ; taking care, in this more protracted exercise, not to pitch on 
the extreme note of his voice, either way, so far as to preclude some 
variety above or below, to correspond with natural delivery. 

I would advise him next to read passages where the sentiment and 
style are especially adapted to the purpose he has in view. If he wishes 
to cultivate the bottom of his voice, he may take passages of poetry, 
in which the simile occurs, a figure that generally requires a low and 
equable movement of voice. 

If he wishes to increase his compass on the higher notes, let him 
choose passages in which spirited emotion prevails; especially such 
as have a succession of interrogative sentences. Instead of giving 
examples he~e, I refer the reader to Exercises on compass of voice. 



58 RHETORICAL PAUSE. 

Sect. 6. — Rhetorical Pause. 

Rhetorical punctuation has a few marks of its own, as 
the point of interrogation, and of admiration, the parenthesis, 
and the hyphen, all of which denote no grammatical rela- 
tion, and have no established length. And there is no good 
reason, if such marks are used at all, why they should not 
be rendered more adequate to their purpose 

The interrogative mark, for example, is used to denote, 
not length of pause, but appropriate modification of voice, 
at the end of a question. But it happens that this one mark, 
as now used, represents two things, that are exactly con- 
trary to each other. When the child is taught, as he still 
is in many schools, always to raise his voice in finishing a 
question, he finds it easy to do so in a case like this, — 
" Will you go to day?' 1 — " Are they Hebrews?" But 
when he comes to the indirect question, not answered by 
yes, or no, his instinct, as I have said before, rebels against 
the rule, and he spontaneously reads with the falling slide, 
" Why are you silent ? Why do you 'prevaricate f* Now, 
in this latter case, if the usual mark of interrogation were 
inverted, d) when its office is to turn the voice downward, 
it would be discriminating, and significant of its design. 

Supposing the student to be already familiar with the 
common doctrine of punctuation, it is not my design to 
discuss it here; nor even to dwell upon the distinction be- 
tween grammatical and rhetorical pauses. All that is ne- 
cessary, is to remark distinctly, that visible punctuation 
cannot be regarded as a perfect guid? to quantity, any more 
than to inflections. Often the voice must rest, where no 
pause is allowed in grammar ; especially does this happen, 
when the speaker would fix attention on a single word, that 
stands as immediate nominative to a verb. As, 

Prosperity gains friends, adversity tries them. 

Some place tlie bliss in action, some in ease ', 
Those call it pleasure, and contentment these. 



RHETORICAL PAUSE. 59 

Here the words in Italic take no visible p^is^ after 
them,- without violence to grammatical relation. But the 
ear demands a pause after each of these words, which 
no good reader will fail to observe. 

The same principle extends to the length of pauses. 
The comma, when it simply marks grammatical relation, 
is very short, as " He took with him Peter, and James, and 
John, his disciples." But when the comma is used in Ian 
guage of emotion, though it is the same pause to the eye, 
it may suspend the voice much longer than in the former 
case; as in the solemn and deliberate call to attention; — 
" Men, brethren, and fathers, hearken."* 

This leads me to the chief point, which I had in view 
under this head, the emphatic pause. It occurs sometimes 
before, but commonly after a striking thought is uttered, 
which the speaker thus presents to his hearers, as worthy 
to command assent, and be fixed in the memory, by a mo- 
ment of uninterrupted reflection. 

There is still another pause, so important in delivery, as 
to deserve a brief notice; I mean that with which a good 
speaker or reader marks the close of a paragraph, or divi- 
sion of a discourse. When he has finished one topic, he 
will enter on a new one, with a more familiar tone of voice, 
fcnd after such a pause, as prepares the hearers to accom- 
pany him Avith renewed satisfaction. 

When the voice has outrun itself, and reached too high 

* The rhetorical pause is as appropriate in music as in elocution. 
In this respect a skilful composer always conforms to sentiment, in a 
set piece. In metrical psalmody, though this adaptation cannot be 
made by the writer of the tune, it ought to be made in some good de- 
gree, by the performers. Instead of a tame subserviency to arbitrary- 
quantity, they may often, with powerful effect, insert or omit a pause, 
as sentiment demands. I have scarcely ever felt the influence of 
music more, than in one or two cases where the stanzas, being highly 
rhetorical, were divided only by a comma, and the choir spontaneously 
rushed over the musical pause at the end of the tune, and began it 
anew, from the impulse of emotion. See example, Watts, Book L 
Hymn 3, 6. and 7—8 and 9 stanzas. 



60 TRANSITION. 

a pitch, one of these para graph -rests affords the best oppor 
tunity to resume the proper key. 

Sect. 7. — Transition. 

By this I mean those sudden changes of voice which often 
occur in delivery. 

To designate these changes, besides the rhetorical 
marks already employed to denote inflections, it will be 
necessary to adopt several new ones; and the following 
may answer the purpose ; signifying that the voice is to be 
modified, in reading what follows the marks respectively, 
thus: — 

(°) high. ( ••) slow. 

(°°) high and loud. (== ) quick. 

( ) low. ( — ) plaintive. 

(oo) ' ow an d loud. ( || ) rhetorical pause. 

( < ) increase. 
In respect to these marks, except the last, I observe 
that, when one of them occurs, it must be left to the reader's 
taste to determine how far its influence extends in what 
follows. In respect to this mark ( • • ) it may be used to 
signify a considerable protraction of sound on that syllable, 
which precedes it, and then it will be inserted in the 
course of the line, without brackets ; As 



-Heaven and earth will witness, 



If Rome • • must • • fall • • that we are innocent. 

When the same mark is designed to signify that a fas- 
sage is to be uttered with a slow rate, it will be inserted 
thus ( •• ) where the passage begins, — the extent of its in- 
fluence being left to the reader's taste ; or it may be com- 
bined with another mark, thus, (© ) which would signify 
low and slow, as (=£=) would high and quick, or ( -2. ) high 
and plaintive. 



EXPRESSION. 61 

EXAMPLES. 

( 5 ) And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and th« 
» cj £s were opened. 

Gabriel to his next in power thus spake : 

( 00 ) Uzziel ! II half these draw off, and coast the south, 
With strictest watch; — these other I! wheel the north. 

C •• ) He scarce had ceased, when the superior fiend 

Was moving towards the shore; 

He call'd so loud that all the hollow deep 

Of hell •• resounded. (°°) Princes, — Potentates, 

Warriors ! II the flower of heaven, once yours, now lost .. 

If such astonishment as 'his can seize 

Eternal spirits. 

In the following example, we see Satan lamenting his loss 
of heaven, and then in the dignity of a fell despair, invoking 
the infernal world. In reading this, when the apostrophe 
changes, the voice should drop from the tones of lamentation, 
which are high and soft, to those which are deep and strong, 
on the words, " Hail, horrors," &c. 

(°) Is this the region, this the soil, the clime, 
Said then the lost archangel, this the seat, 
That we must change for heaven ? This mournful gloom II 

For that celestial light 1 

Farewell, happy fields, 
Where joy forever dwells. ( 00 ) Hail horrors ! hail, 
Infernal world I And thou, .. prof "oundest hell, •• 
Receive thy new possessor ! 

Sect. 8. — Expression. 

This term I use, in rather a limited sense, to denote the 
proper influence of reverential and pathetic sentiment on the 
voice. 

There is a modification of voice, which accompanies 
awakened sensibility of soul, that is more easily felt than 
described ; and this constitutes the unction of delivery. With- 
out this, thoughvs that should impress, attract, or soothe the 
mind, often become repulsive. 

6 



62 REPRESENTATION. 

The fact cannot have escaped common observation, that 
sorrow, and its kindred passions, when carried to a high 
pitch, suspend the voice entirely. In a lower degree, triey 
give it a slender and tremulous utterance. Thus Aaron, 
when informed that his two sons were smitten dead, by a 
stroke of divine vengeance, " held his peace." T he emo- 
tions of his heart were too deep to find utterance in words. 
The highest passion of this sort, is expressed by silence; 
and when so far moderated, as to admit of words, it speaks 
only in abrupt fragments of sentences. Hence it is, that all 
artificial imitation, in this case, is commonly so unlike the 
reality. It leads to metaphors, to amplification and embel- 
lishment, in language, and to either vociferation or whining 
in utterance. Whereas the real passion intended to be im- 
itated, if it speaks at all, speaks without ornament, in few 
words, and in tones that are a perfect contrast to those of 
declamation. This distinction arises from those laws of the 
human mind, by which internal emotion is connected with its 
external signs. 

The heart, that is bursting with grief, feels the sympathy that 
speaks in a silent grasp of the hand, in tears, or in gentle tones of 
voice ; while it is shocked at the cold commiseration that utters itself 
in many words, firmly and formally pronounced. 

Passion has its own appropriate language ; and this, so far as the 
voice is concerned, is what I mean by expression. That this may be 
cultivated by the efforts of art, to some extent, is evident from the 
skill which actors have sometimes attained, in dramatic exhibition; 
a skill to which one of the fraternity alluded, in his remark to a dig- 
nitary of the church, the cutting severity of which consists in the 
truth it contains ; " We speak of fictions as if they were realities; you 
speak of realities as if they were fictions." 

The fact however, is, that the indescribable power communicated 
to the voice by a delicate sensibility, especially a Christian sensibil- 
ity, it is quite beyond the reach of art to imitate. 

Sect. 9. — Rhetorical Dialogue. 

This takes place when one voice personates two individ- 
uals or more. It seems necessary to dwell a little on this 
branch of modulation, which has scarcely been noticed by 



RHETORICAL DIALOGUE. 63 

writers on oratory. Every one must have observed how much 
more interesting is an exhibition of men, as living" agents, than 
of things in the abstract. Now when the orator introduces 
another man as speaking, he either informs us what that man 
said, in the third person, or presents him to us as spoken to, 
in the second person, and as speaking himself, in the first. 

A thousand examples are at hand, to show the difference 
between telling us what was said by another man, and intro- 
ducing that man to speak to us himself. " Jesus told Peter 
that he should deny him thrice," is narrative. " Jesus 
said, Peter, thou shalt deny me thrice," is representation. 
The difference between these two modes of communication 
it is the province of taste to feel, but of criticism to explain. 
Let us then analyze a simple thought, as -expressed in these 
two forms ; " Jesus inquired of Simon, the son of Jonas, 
whether he loved him." " Jesus said, Simon, son of Jonas, 
lovest thou me ?" The difference in point of vivacity is in- 
stantly perceived, but in what does this difference consist? 
In two things. The first manner throws verbs into past 
time, and pronouns into the third person, producing, in 
the latter especially, an indefiniteness of grammatical rela- 
tion, which is unfriendly to the clearness and vivacity of 
language. At the same time, the energy arising from the 
vocative case, from the figure of tense, and of interrogation, 
is sacrificed. As a principle of composition, though com- 
monly overlooked, this goes far to explain the difference 
between the tame and the vivid in st}rle. 

But the same difference is still more striking, when ana- 
.yzed by the principles of delivery. Transform an animated 
question into a mere statement of the fact, that such a question 
was asked, and all the intonations of voice are changed, so 
that you do not seem to hear a real person speaking, but are 
only told that he did speak. This change in expression of 
voice will be apparent in repeating the two forms of the 
example last quoted. 



64 THE READING OF POETRY. 

The reader will perceive, that the principle which I here aim to 
illustrate, though it belongs primarily to the philosophy of style, has 
a very extensive influence over every department of delivery. 

The man who leels the inspiration of true eloquence, will find 
some of his happiest resources in this kind of representation. He 
can break through the trammels of a tame, inanimate address. 
He can ask questions, and answer them ; can personate an accu-er 
and a respondent; can suppose himself accused or interrogated, 
and give his replies. He can call up the absent or the dead, and 
make them speak through his lips. The skill of representing two 
or more persons, by appropriate management of language and voice, 
is properly called rhetorical dialogue. It was thus that the great 
orators of antiquity, and thus that Chrysostom and Massillon held 
their hearers in captivity. 

Sect. 10. — The reading of poetry. 
The genius of verse requires that it be pronounced with 
a fuller swell of the open vowels, and in a manner more 
melodious and flowing than prose. As the peculiar charms 
of poetry consist very much in delicacy of sentiment, and 
beauty of language, it were absurd to read it without regard 
to these characteristics. But on the other hand, to preserve 
the metrical flow of versification, and yet not impair the 
sense, is no easy attainment. The following general prin- 
ciples may be of use to the student. 

1. In proportion as the sentiment of a passage is ele- 
vated, inspiring emotions of dignity or reverence, the voice 
has less variety of inflection, and is more inclined to the 
monotone. 

2. When the sentiment of a passage is dedicate and 
gentle, especially when it is plaintive, it inclines the voice 
to the rising inflection ; and for this reason, poetry oftener 
requires the rising inflection than prose : yet, 

3. The rights of emphasis must be respected in poetry. 
When the language of a passage is strong and discrimi- 
nating, or familiarly descriptive, or colloquial, — the same 
modifications of voice are required as in prose. The 
emphatic stress and inflection, that must be intensive, in 
prose, to express a thought forcibly, are equally necessary 
in poetry. 



THE READING OF POETRY. 65 

As; 

Say first, of God above, or man below, 
What can we reason, but from what we know ? 
Is the great chain, that draws all to agree, 
And drawn suppurts, upheld by God or thee ? 
But sometimes virtue starves, while vice is fed : 
What then ? — is the reward of virtue bread? 

4. The metrical accent of poetry is subordinate to sense, 
and to established usage in pronunciation. That is a child- 
ish conformity to poetic measure, which we sometimes hear, 
as marked in the following examples. 

False eloquence, like the prismatic glass, 
Its gaudy colours spreads on every place, 
Their praise is still, the style is excellent ; 
The sense they humbly take upon content. 

Where the metrical accent would do violence to every ear of any 
refinement, the best way of obviating the difficulty, is to give both the 
metrical and the customary accent ; at least so far, that neither shall 
be very conspicuous; thus — 

Our supreme foe, in time may much relent. 

Encamp their legions, or with obscure wing — 

I think of only two exceptions to these remarks on accent. The 
first is, where a distinguished poet has purposely violated harmony, 
to make the harshness of his line correspond with that of the thought. 

As; 

On a sudden open fly, 

With impetuous recoil, and jarring sound, 
The infernal doors ; and on the hinges grate, 
Harsh thunder. 

The other is where a poet of the same order, without any apparent 
reason, has so deranged the customary accent, that, to restore it in 
reading, would be a violation of euphony not to be endured ; thus — 

With glory attributed to the high 

Creator. 



Only to shine, yet scarce to contribute- 



5. The pauses of verse should be so managed, if pos- 
sible, as most fully to exhibit the sense, without sacrificing 
the harmony of the composition. No good reader can fail 



66 THE READING OF POETRY. 

to observe the caesural pause, occurring after the fourth 

syllable, in these flowing lines ; 

Warms in the sun II refreshes in the breeze, 
Glows in the stars I! and blossoms in the trees. 

Yet no good reader would introduce the same pause, from 
regard to melody, where the sense utterly forbids it, as in this 
line ; 

I sit, with sad II civility I read. 

There is another poetical pause, occurring at the end of 
the line. In blank verse, even when the sense of one line 
runs closely into the next, the reader may generally, not 
always, mark the end of the line, by a proper protraction and 
suspension of voice, on the closing syllable, — as in the follow- 
ing notation ; 

Thus with the year- 
Seasons return, but not to me returns •• 
Day II or the sweet approach of even or morn. 

And over them triumphant Death his dart •• 
Shook !l but delayed to strike. 

" The affectation," says Walker, " which most writers of blank 
verse have of extending the sense beyond the line, is followed by 
a similar affectation in the printer, who will often omit a pause at the 
end of a line in a verse, when he would have inserted one in prose ; 
and this affectation is still carried farther by the reader, who will 
run the sense of one line into another, where there is the least oppor- 
tunity for doing it, in order to show that he is too sagacious, to sup- 
pose that there is any conclusion in the sense, because the line con- 
cludes." 

In regard to rhyme, there can be no doubt that it should 
be so read, as to make the end of the line quite perceptible to 
the ear: otherwise the correspondent sound of the final syl- 
lables, in which rhyme consists, would be entirely lost. 

6. The vowels e and o when apostrophized in poetry, 
should be preserved in pronunciation. But they should be 
spoken in a manner so slight and accelerated, as easily to 
coalesce with the following syllable. — As ; 

But of the two, less dar^'rous is th' offence. 
Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms. 



GESTURE. 67 

CHAPTER VII. 

GESTURE. 

Though the chief object of this book, is to regulate the 
voice, in reading and speaking, a few remarks on gesture, 
may be useful to those members of academies, and higher 
schools, who wish to acquire proper habits in exercises of 
declamation. These remarks I shall introduce, with a very 
brief view of some faults, not uncommon, as to management 
of countenance and attitude, in a speaker. 

The eye is the only part of the face, that it falls within my 
design to notice here, both because this is the chief seat of ex- 
pression, and because its significance is especially liable to 
be frustrated by mismanagement. The intercourse of soul, 
between speaker and hearers, is carried on more unequivo- 
cally through the eye, than in any other way. But if he 
neglects to look at them, and they in return neglect, (as they 
commonly will,) to look at him; the mutual reaction of feel- 
ing through the countenance is lost; and vocal language is 
all the medium of intercourse that remains. 

The eye " bent on vacuity," as the artists call it, is the next 
most common defect, of this sort. The glass eye of a wax 
figure at once tells its own character. There may be, in 
other respects, the proportion and complexion of a human 
face; but that eye, the moment it is examined, you perceive 
is nothing more, and, at best, it can be nothing more than a 
bungling counterfeit. So the eye of a speaker maybe open, 
and yet not see ; at least there may be no discrimination, no 
meaning in its look. It does not look at anything. There 
is in its expression, a generality, a vacuity, so to speak, that 
expresses nothing. To the same class belongs that indefinite 
sweep of the eye, which passes from one side to another 



68 GESTURE. 

of an assembly, resting nowhere; and that tremulous, 
waving cast of the eye, and winking of the eyelid, which is 
in direct contrast to an open, collected, manly expression of 
the face. 

So fatal are these faults to the impression of delivery that 
oo much care cannot be taken to avoid them. 

Attitude I use, not in the theatrical sense of the word, 
(for this has no concern with oratory,) but as denoting the 
general positions of the body, which are becoming or other- 
wise, in a speaker. In some few instances, I have observed 
the head to be kept so erect, as to give the air of haughti- 
ness. In others, it is dropped so low, that the man seems to 
be carelessly surveying his own person. In others, it is re- 
clined towards one shoulder, so as to give the appearance of 
languor or indolence. 

As to the degree of motion that is proper for the body, it 
may be safely said, that while the fixedness of a post is an 
exl.eme, all violent tossing of the body from side to side, 
rising on the toes, or writhing of the shoulders and limbs, 
are not less unseemly. 

The remarks which come next to be made on gesture, are 
more various. 

One principal fault which I have noticed in this, is want 
of appropriateness. By this I mean that it is not sufficiently 
adapted to circumstances. An address to an assembly of 
common men, admits a boldness of action, that would be un- 
seemly in one delivered to a prince. 

More vivacity and variety 4s admissible in the action of 
a young speaker, than of one who is aged ; and the same 
boldness of manner which is proper when the orator is 
kindled to a glowing fervour, in the close of a discourse, 
would be out of place at its commencement. Yet the same 
action is used by some speakers, in the exordium, as in the 
conclusion ; in cool argument to the understanding, as in 
impassioned appeals to the heart Good sense will lead a 



GESTURE. 69 

man, as Gtuintilfan says, " To act as well as to speak in a 
different manner, to different persons, at different times 
and on different subjects." 

Nearly of the same class is another kind of faults 
arising from want of discrimination. Of this sort is that 
puerile imitation which consists in acting words, instead 
of thoughts. The declaimer can never utter the word heart, 
without laying his hand on his breast; nor speak of God or 
heaven, in the most incidental manner, without directing his 
eye, and his gesture upwards. Let the same principle be 
carried out, in repeating the prophet's description of true 
fasting ; " It is not for a man to bow down his head as a bul- 
rush," &c. — and every one would see that, to conform the 
gesture to the words, is but childish mimicry. 

There is no case in which this want of discrimination 
oftener occurs, than in a class of words denoting sometimes 
numerical, and sometimes local extent, accompanied by the 
spreading of both hands ; the significance of this gesture 
being destroyed by misapplication. The following exam- 
ples may illustrate my meaning. 

Exam. 1. " The goodness of God is the source of all our 
blessings." The declaimer, when he utters the word God, 
raises his eye and his right hand ; and when he utters the 
word all, extends both hands. Now the latter action con 
founds two things, that are very distinct, number and space. 
When I recount all the blessings of my life, they are very 
many ; but why should I spread my hands, to denote a mul- 
tiplicity that is merely numerical and successive? when the 
thought has no concern with local dimensions, any more 
than in this case : " All the days of Methusaleh were nine 
hundred and sixty-nine years." 

Exam,. 2. "All the actions of our lives, will be brought 
into judo-emerjt." Here again, the thought is that of arith- 
metical succession, not of local extent ; and if any gesture 
is demanded, it is not the spreading of both hands. 



70 GESTURE. 

Exam. 3. " I bring you glad tidings of great joy, which 
shall be to all people." Here the local extent which be- 
longs to the thought, is properly expressed by action of both 
hands. 

If there is language in action, it requires propriety and 
precision. The indiscriminate movement of the hands sig- 
nifies nothing. Want of emphasis in this language is a 
great, but common fault. When the speaker, however, 
has an emphatic stroke of the hand, its effect is lost, if that 
stroke does not accompany the emphasis of the voice ; that 
is, if it falls one syllable after the stress of voice, or if it is 
disproportionate in force to that stress, in the same degree, 
its mecning is impaired. The direction of the hand too, 
in which the emphatic stroke terminates, is significant. 
The elevated termination suits high passion ; the horizon- 
tal, decision ; the downward, disapprobation. And any of 
these may denote definitive designation of particular ob- 
jects. 

Another fault of action is excess. In some cases it is too 
constant. To enter on a discourse with passionate excla- 
mations and high wrought figures, while the speaker and 
audience are both cool, is not more absurd than to begin 
with continual gesticulation. Neman probably D ,ver carried 
the language of action to so high a pitch as Garn .k. Yet Dr. 
Gregory says of this great dramatic speaker; " He used less 
action, than any performer I ever saw ; but his action always 
had meaning; it always spoke. By being less than that of 
other actors, it had the greater force." But if constant ac- 
tion has too much levity, even for the stage, what shall we 
say of that man's taste, who, in speaking on a subject of se- 
rious importance, can scarcely utter a sentence without ex- 
tending his hands % " Ne quid nimis."* 

* Fenelon says, — " Some time ago, I happened to fall asleep at a 
sermon ; and when I awaked, the preacher was in a very violent 
agitation, so that I fancied at first, he was pressing some important 



GESTURE. 71 

But gesture may be not merely too much ; — it may be 
too violent. Such are the habits of some men, that they 
can never raise the hand, without stretching the arm at 
full length above the head, or in a horizontal sweep; or 
drawing it back, as if in the attitude of prostrating some 
giant at a stroke. But such a man seems to forget that 
gentleness, and tranquillity, and dignity, are attributes that 
prevail more than violence, in real oratory. The full 
stroke of the hand, with- extended arm, should be reserv- 
ed for its own appropriate occasions. For common pur- 
poses, a smaller movement is sufficient, and even more 
expressive. The meaning of a gesture depends not on its 
compass. The tap of Caesars finger, was enough to awe 
a Senate. 

Gesture is often too complex. When there is want of 
precision, in the intellectual habits of the speaker, he 
adopts perhaps two or three gestures for one thought. In 
this way all'sinWicity is sacrificed; for though the idea is 
complex, an attempt to exhibit each shade of meaning, by 
the hand, is ridiculous. After one principal stroke, every 
appendage to this, commonly weakens its effect. 

Another fault is too great uniformity. Like periodic 
tones and stress of voice, the same gesture recurring con- 
stantly, shows want of discriminating taste. " In all things," 
says Cicero, " repetition is the parent of satiety." 

This barren sameness usually prevails, in a man's man- 
ner, just in proportion as it is ungraceful. Suppose, for 
example, that he is accustomed to raise his arm by a mo- 
tion from the shoulder, without bending the elbow; or that 



point of morality. But he was only giving notice, that on the Sun- 
day following, he wuuld preach upon repentance. I was extremely 
surprised to hear so ndifrerent a thing uttered with so much vehe- 
mence. The motion if the arm is proper, when the orator is very 
vehement; but he ou^ht not to move his arm in order to appear 
vehement. Nay, there are many things that ought to be pronounced 
calmly, and without any motion." 



72 CES1URE. 

the elbow is bent to a right angle, and thrust outward ; or 
that it 'U drawn close to the side, so that The action is con- 
fined to the lower part of the arm and hand; or that the 
hand is drawn to the left, by bending the wrist so far as to 
give the appearance of constraint, or backwards so far as 
to contract the thumb and fingers ; — in all these cases, the 
motion is at once stiff and unvaried. 

The same thing is commonly true of all short, abrupt, 
and jerking movements. These remind you of the dry 
limb of a tree, forced into short and rigid vibrations by the 
wind ; and not of the luxuriant branch of the willow, 
gently and variously waving before the breeze. The action 
of the graceful speaker, is easy and flowing, as well as 
forcible. His hand describes curve lines, rather than right. 
or acute angles ; and when its office is finished, in any case, 
it drops gently down at his side, instead of being snatched 
away, as from the bite of a reptile. The action of young 
children is never deficient in grace or variety; because it- is 
not vitiated by diffidence, affectation, or habit. 

There is one more class of faults, which seems to arise 
from an attempt to shun such as I have just described, and 
which I cannot better designate, than by the phrase me- 
chanical variety. 

This is analagous to that variety of tones, which is pro- 
duced by an effort to be various, without regard to sense. 
The diversity of notes, like those of the chiming clock, re- 
turns periodically, but is always the same diversity. So a 
speaker may have several gestures, which he repeats al- 
ways in the same successive order. The most common 
form of this artificial variety consists, in the alternate use 
of the right hand and the left. I have seen a preacher, 
who aimed to avoid sameness of action, in the course oi 
a few sentences, extend first his right hand, then his left, 
and then both. This order was continued through the 
discpurse ; so that these three gestures, whatever might 



GESTURE. 7S 

be the sentiment, returned, with nearly periodical exactness. 
Now whatever variety is attained in this way, is at best but 
a uniform variety ; and is the more disgusting, in proportion 
as it is the more studied and artificial. 

But the question arises, does this charge always lie 
against the use of the left hand alone? I answer, by no 
means. The almost universal precepts, however, in the in- 
stitutes of oratory, giving precedence to the right hand, are 
not without reason. It has been said, indeed, that the con- 
finement of the left hand in holding up the robe, was 
originally the ground of this preference; and th t this is a 
reason which does not exist in modern times. But how did 
it happen that this service, denoting inferiority, came to be 
assigned to the left, rather than the right hand ? Doubtless 
because this accords with a general usage of men, through 
all time. When Joseph brought his tw r o sons to be blessed 
by Jacob, the patriarch signified which was the object of 
special benediction, by placing the right hand on his head, 
and the left on the head of the other. As a token of respect 
to his mother, Solomon gave her a seat on the right hand of 
his throne. In the same manner the righteous will be dis- 
tinguished from the wicked, in the final judgment. Through- 
out the Bible, the right hand is spoken cf as the emblem of 
honor, strength, authority, or victory. 

The common act of salutation is expressed by the right 
hand ; and hence its name dextra, from de/o^av to take, 
that is, by the hand ; and hence, by figure, the English 
word dextrous, denoting skill and agility. General custom 
has always given preference to the right hand, when only 
one is used, in the common offices of life. The sword of 
the warrior, the knife of the surgical operator, the pen of 
the author, belong to this hand. With us, to call a man 
left handed is to call him awkward ; and it is a curious fact 
that the Sandwich Islanders use the same phrase to denote 
ignorance or unskilfulness. To give the left hand in salu- 

7 



74 GESTURE. 

tation, denotes a familiarity and levity, never offered to a 
superior. To employ this in taking an oath, or in giving 
what is called the " right hand of fellowship," as a religious 
act, would be deemed rusticity or irreverent trifling. 

Now so long as this general usage exists, without in- 
quiring here into its origin, it is manifest that the left hand 
can never, without incongruity, assume precedence over 
the right, so as to perform alone the principal gesture, with 
the few exceptions mentioned below. To raise this hand-, 
for example, as' expressing authority ; or to lay it on the 
breast, in an appeal to conscience, would be likely to ex- 
cite a smile. Though it often acts with great significance, 
in conjunction with the right hand, the only cases, that I 
recollect, where it can with propriety act alone, in the prin- 
cipal gesture, are these : 

First, when the left hand is spoken of in contradistinction 
from the right ; " He shall set the sheep on his right hand, 
but the goats on his left." Secondly, when there is local 
allusion to some object on the left of the speaker. For 
example, if his face is to the north, and he points to the 
setting sun, it is better perhaps to do it with his left hand, 
than to turn his body, so as to make it convenient to do it with 
his right. Thirdly, when two things are contrasted, though 
without local allusion, if the case requires, that the one be 
marked by the action of the right hand, it is often best to 
mark the antithetic object with the left. 

But I would not magnify, by dwelling on it, a question 
of so small moment. It would have been despatched in a 
sentence or two, had it not seemed proper to show, that 
what some are disposed to call an arbitrary and groundless 
precept of ancient rhetoric, has its foundation in a general 
and instinctive feeling of propriety. Still I would say, that 
when a departure from this precept results, not from affec- 
tation, but from emotion, it is far better than any minute 
observance of propriety, which arises from a coldly correct 
and artificial habit. 



GESTURE. 75 

In finishing this chapter, the general remark may De 
made, as applying to action, and indeed to the whole sub- 
ject of delivery, that many smaller blemishes are scarcely 
observed in a speaker, who is deeply interested in his sub- 
ject ; while the affectation of excellence, is never excused 
by judicious hearers. To be a first-rate orator, requires a 
combination of powers which few men possess: and no 
means of cultivation can ever confer these highest requi- 
sites for eloquence, on public speakers generally. But nei 
ther is it necessary to eminent usefulness, that these requi- 
sites should be possessed by all. Any man, who has good 
sense, and a warm heart, if his faculties for elocution are 
not essentially defective, and if he is patient and faithful in 
the discipline of these faculties, may render himself an 
agreeable and impressive speaker. 



EXERCISES. 



PART I. 



Preparatory Remarks. 

The selections in Part I. of these Exercises, are designed 
especially to exemplify the principles of rhetorical delivery, 
as laid down in the foregoing pages. These principles are 
the same as those contained in my Analysis, only thrown 
into a more brief and simple form, for a younger class of 
readers, than were contemplated in that work. I see no 
reason to change the original plan, of giving one series of 
exercises, with a rhetorical notation, throughout; and another 
series of miscellaneous pieces, in which such a notation is 
but partially applied. 

These Exercises of the first part, are much the same as 
those of the Analysis, chiefly because the examples were 
selected, with great expense of time, from the whole com- 
pass of English literature ; and because it is not easy to 
make another selection, so well adapted to the various prin- 
ciples to be illustrated. 

In using the Exercises of Part I the student may be 
assisted by the following remarks. 

1. At the head of each exercise, on the left hand, the 
page is noted, where the principle is contained, which the 
examples are intended to illustrate. 

2. Under the several heads, a rhetorical notation, ac- 
cording to the Key given at the beginning, is so applied as 



PREPARATORY REMARKS. 77 

to designate inflection, emphasis, and towards the close, 
modulation. When emphatic stress is but moderate, it is 
often distinguished only by the mark of inflection ; when 
the stress amounts to decided emphasis, it is denoted by the 
Italic type; and sometimes, when strongly intensive, by small 
capitals. In examples taken from the Scriptures, Italic 
words are used not as in the English Bible, but solely to 
express emphasis. 

3. In applying a rhetorical notation so as most fully to 
exnibit sentiment and emotion, there is often room for diver- 
sity of taste. Any amendments, in this respect, which may 
be suggested by Teachers or others will be gratefully re- 
ceived. 

4. They who use these Exercises should be aware that 
examples, which apply exclusively to a single principle of 
elocution, are commonly very short. When longer ones 
are chosen, including other principles, besides the one es- 
pecially in view, it will still be apparent from the notation, 
what is the point chiefly to be regarded. 

5. Before attempting to read any Exercise, the principle 
intended to be illustrated should be well examined by the 
pupil. Especially under the head of Modulation, no example 
expressive of passion, should be read without being studied 
beforehand, 



EXERCISES ON ARTICULATION* 

Exercise 1. 

Page 24. Difficult articulation from immediate succession 
of the same or similar sounds. 

1. The youth hates s/udy. 

2. The wild beasts draggled through the vale. 
S. The steadfast stranger in the forests s/rayed. 

4. It was the fines/ street of the city. 

5. When Ajaz drives some rock's vast weight to throw. 

6. It was the severed storm of the season, but the masts 
stood through the gale. 

7. That lasts /ill night. > 
Thtt Ust sritt night. \ 

8. He can debate on either side of the question. ) 
He can debate on either side of the question. ) 

9. Who ever imagined such an ocean to exist : l 



Who ever imagined such a notion to exi 



ist ? ) 
st? \ 



Page 25. Difficult succession of consonants with remote accent. 

1. Fie has taken leave of terrestrial trials and enjoy- 
ments, and is laid in the grave, the common receptacle and 
home of mortals. 

2. Though this barbarous chief received us very cour- 
teously, and spoke to us very communicatively at the first 
interview, we soon lost our confidence in the disinterested- 
ness of his motives. 

3. Though there could be no doubt as to the reason- 
ableness of our request, yet he saw fit peremptorily to refuse 
it, and authoritatively to require that we should depart from 
the country. As no alternative was left us, we unhesitatingly 
prepared to obey this arbitrary mandate. 



EXERCISES OX INFLECTION. 

Exercise 2. 
Page 29. The disjunctive (or) has the rising inflection 
he^or* 1 , and the falling after it. 
1. Then said Jesus unto them, I will ask you one thing; 



Ex. 2.J EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 79 

Is it lawful on the sabbath-days to do good, or to do evil? 
to save life, or to destroy it ? 

2. Whether we are hurt by a mad or a blind man, the 
pain is still the same. And with regard to those who are 
undone, it avails little whether it be by a man who deceives 
them, or by one who is himself deceived. 

3. Has God forsaken the works of his own hands? or 
does he always graciously preserve, and keep and guide 
them? 

4. Therefore, O ye judges! you are now to consider, 
whether it is more probable that the deceased was murder- 
ed by the man who inherits his estate, or by him who in- 
herits nothing but beggary by the same death. By the man 
who was raised from penury to plenty, or by him who was 
brought from happiness to misery. By him, whom the lust 
of lucre has inflamed with the most inveterate hatred against 
his own relations; or by him, whose life was such, that he 
never knew what gain was, but from the product of his own 
labors. By him who of all dealers in the trade of blood, 
was the most audacious; or by him who was so little ac- 
customed to the forum and trials, that he dreads not only 
the benches of a court, but the very town. In short, ye 
judges, what I think most to this point is, you are to con- 
sider whether it is most likely that an enemy, or a son, 
would be guilty of this murder. 

5. As for the particular occasion of these (charity) 
schools, there cannct any offer, more worthy a generous 
mind. Would you do a handsome thing without return? 
— do it for an infant that is not sensible of the obligation.* 
Would you doit for the public good? — do it for one who 
will be an honest artificer. Would you do it for the sake 
of heaven? give it for one who shall be instructed in the 
worship of Him, for whose sake you gave it. 



Exercise 3. 
Page 29. The direct question, or that which admits the 
answers yes or no, has the rising inflection, and the 
answer has the falling. 

1. Will the Lord cast off for ever? and will he be fa- 
vorable no more? Is his mercy clean gone for ever? doth 

* Disjunctive or is understood. 



80 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 3. 

his promise fail for evermore? Hath God forgotten to be 
gracious? hath he in anger shut up his tender mercies? 

2. Is not this the carpenter's son? is not his mother 
called Mary? and his brethren, James, and Joses, and Si- 
mon, and Judas? and his sisters, are they not all with us? 

3. Are we intended for actors in the grand drama of 
eternity? Are we candidates for the plaudit of the rational 
creation? Are we formed to participate the supreme be- 
atitude in communicating happiness? Are we destined to 
co-operate with God in advancing the order and perfection 
of his works ? How sublime a creature then is man ! 



The following are examples of both question and answer. 

4. Who are the persons that are most apt to fall into 
peevishness and dejection — that are continually complain- 
ing of the world, and see nothing but wretchedness around 
them ? Are they those whom want compels to toil for their 
daily bread? — who have no treasure but the labor of their 
hands — who rise, with the rising sun, to expose themselves 
to all the rigors of the seasons, unsheltered from the win- 
ter's cold, and unsJ adec" from the summer's heat? No. 
The labors of such are the very blessings of their condition. 

5. What, then, what was Caesar's object ? Do we se- 
lect extortioners, to enforce the laws of equity? Do we 
make choice of profligates, to guard the morals of society ? 
Do we depute atheists, to preside over the rites of religion? 
I will not press the answer: I need not press the answer; 
the premises of my argument render it unnecessary. — What 
would content you ? Talent ? No ! Enterprise ? No ! 
Courage? No! Reputation? No! Virtue? No! The 
men whom you would select, should possess, not one, but 
all, of these. 

6. Can the truth be discovered when the slaves of the 
prosecutor are brought as witnesses against the person 
accused ? Let us hear now what kind of an examination 
this was. Call in Ruscio : Call in Casca. Did Clodius 
way-lay Milo? He did: Drag them instantly to execution. 
— He did not: Let them have their liberty. What can be 
more satisfactory than this method of examination ? 

7. Are you desirous that your talents and abilities may 
procure you respect? Display them not ostentatiously to 
public view. W T ould you escape the envy which your rich- 



Ex. 3, 4j EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 81 

es might excite ? Let them not minister to pride, but adorn 
them with humility. — There is not an evil incident to hu- 
man nature for which the gospel doth not provide a remedy. 
Are you ignorant of many things which it highly concerns 
you to know ? The gospel offers you instruction. Have 
you deviated from the path of duty ? The gospel offers you 
forgiveness. Do temptations surround you? The gospel 
offers you the aid of heaven. Are you exposed to misery? 
It consoles you. Are you subject to death? It offers you 
immortality. 



Page 29, Note 1. When (or) is used conjunctively, it 
has the same inflection before and after it. 

In some sentences the disjunctive and the conjuctive use of or, 
are so intermingled as to require careful attention to distinguish them. 

1. Canst thou bind the unicorn with his band in the 
furrow? or will he harrow the valleys after thee? Wilt 
thou trust him because his strength is great ? or wilt thou 
leave thy labor to him ? Gavest thou the goodly wings 
unto the peacocks? or wings and featners unto the ostrich? 
Canst thou draw out leviathan with a hook ? or his tongue 
with a cord which thou lettest down? Canst thou put a 
hook into his nose? or bore his jaw through with a thorn? 
Wilt thou play with him as with a bird ; or wilt thou bind 
him for thy maidens? Canst thou fill his skin with' barbed 
irons? or his head with fish spears? 

2. But should these credulous infidels after all be in 
the right, and this pretended revelation be all a fable; from 
believing it what harm could ensue? would it render prin- 
ces more tyrannical, or subjects more ungovernable, the 
rich more insolent, or the poor more disorderly? Would 
it make worse parents or children, husbands, or wives ; 
masters, or servants, friends, or neighbors? or* would it 
not make men more virtuous, and, consequently, more hap- 
py, in every situation. 



Exercise 4. 
Page 30. Negation opposed to affirmation. 
I. True charity is not a meteor, which occasionally 

* The last or is disjunctive. 



82 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [L\. 4. 

glares ; but a luminary, which, in its orderly and regxilar 
course, dispenses a benignant influence. 

2. Think not, that the influence of devotion is uon fined 
to the retirement of the closet, and the assemblies of the 
saints. Imagine not, that, unconnected with the duties ot 
life, it is suited only to those enraptured souls, whose feel- 
ings, perhaps, you deride as romantic and visionarv. It is 
the guardian of innocence — it is the instrument of virtue — 
it is a mean by which every good affection may be formed 
and improved. 

3. Caesar, who would not wait the conclusion of the 
consul's speech, generously replied, that he came into Italy 
not to injure the liberties of Rome and its citizens, but to 
restore them. 

4. If any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, 
Jesus Christ the righteous: and he is the propitiation for 
our sins ; and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the 
whole world. 

5. These things I say now, not to insult one w^ho is 
fallen, but to render more secure those who stand ; not to 
irritate the hearts of the wounded, but to preserve those 
who are not yet wounded, in sound health; not to sub- 
merge him who is tossed on the billows, but to instruct 
those sailing before a propitious breeze, that they may not 
be plunged beneath the waves. 

6. But this is no time for a tribunal of justice, but for 
showing mercy; not for accusation, but for philanthropy; 
not for trial, but for pardon ; not for sentence and execu- 
tion, but compassion and kindness. 



Comparison and contrast belong to the same head. 
1. By honor and dishonor, by evil report and good re- 
port; as deceivers, and yet true; as unknown, and yet 
well known; as dying, and behold we live; as chastened, 
and not killed ; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, 
yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possess- 
ing all things. 

Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers ; for 
what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? 
and what communion hath light with darkness? and what 
concord hath Christ with Belial ? or what part hath he that 
believeth with an infidel ? 



Ex. 5.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 83 

A wise man feareth, and departeth from evil ; but the fool 
rageth, and is confident. The wicked is driven away in his 
wickedness; but the righteous hath hope in his death. 
Righteousness exalteth a nation ; but sin is a reproach to any 
people. The king's favor is toward a wise servant; but his 
wrath is against him that causeth shame. 

2. Between fame and true honor a distinction is to be 
made. The former is a blind and noisy applause : the latter 
a more silent and internal homage. Fame floats on the 
breath of the multitude: honor rests on the judgement of the 
thinking. Fame may-give praise, while it withholds esteem ; 
true honor implies esteem, mingled with respect. The one 
regards particular distinguished talents: the other looks up 
to the whole character. 

3. Europe was one great field of battle, where the weak 
struggled for freedom, and the strong for dominion. The 
king was without power, and the nobles without principle. 
They were tyrants at home, and robbers abroad. Nothing 
remained to be a check upon ferocity and violence. 

4. The power of delicacy is chiefly seen in discerning 
the true merit of a work ; the power of correctness, in re- 
jecting false pretensions to merit. Delicacy leans more to 
feeling : correctness more to reason and judgement. The 
former is more the gift of nature; the latter, more the pro- 
duct of culture and art. Among the ancient critics, Lon- 
ginus possessed most delicacy; Aristotle most correctness. 
Among the moderns, Mr. Addison is a high example of 
delicate taste; Dean Swift, had he written on the subject 
of criticism, would perhaps have afforded the example of a 
correct one. 

5. Homer was the greater genius ; Virgil the better 
artist : in the one, we most admire the man ; in the other, the 
work. Homer hurries us with a commanding impetuosity; 
Virgil lends us with an attractive majesty. Homer scatters 
with a generous profusion ; Virgil bestows with a careful 
magnificence Homer, like the Nile, pours out his riches 
with a sudden overflow; Virgil, like a river in its banks, 
with a constant stream. — And when we look upon their ma- 
chines, Homer seems, like his own Jupiter in his terrors, 
shaking Olympus, scattering the lightnings, and firing the 
heavens; Virgil, like the same power in his benevolence, 
counselling with the gods, laying plans for empires, and or- 
dering his whole creation. 



84 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. |Ex. 4, 5. 

6. Dryden knew mire of man in his general nature, and 
Pope ir. his local manners. The notions of Dryden were 
formed by comprehensive speculation, those of Pope by 
minute attention. 

The style of Dryden is capricious and varied; that ot 
Pope is cautious and uniform. Dryden obeys the motions ot 
his own mind; Pope constrains his mind to his own rules 
of composition. Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid ; 
Pope is always smooth, uniform, and gentle. Dryden's page 
is a natural field, rising into inequalities, and diversified by 
the varied exuberance of abundant vegetation ; Pope's is a 
velvet lawn, shaven by the scythe, and levelled by the roller. 

If the flights of Dryden are higher, Pope continues 
longer on the wing. If of Dryden's fire, the blaze is 
brighter ; of Pope's the heat is more regular and constant. 
Dryden often surpasses expectation, and Pope never falls 
below it. Dryden is read with frequent astonishment, and 
Pope with perpetual delight. 

7. Never before were so many opposing interests, pas- 
sions, and principles, committed to such a decision. On 
one side an attachment to the ancient order of things, on 
the other a passionate desire of change; a wish in some to 
perpetuate, in others to destroy every thing; every abuse 
sacred in the eyes of the former, every foundation attempt- 
ed to be demolished by tht, latter ; a jealousy of power 
shrinking from the slightest innovation, pretensions to free- 
dom pushed to madness and anarchy ; superstition in all 
its dotage, impiety in all its fury. 



Exercise 5. 

Page 31. The pause of suspension requires the rising bCiae. 

Several kinds of sentences are classed under this rule, in the body 
of the work ; but as the principle is the same in all, no distinction is 
necessary in the Exercises. 

1. For if God spared not the angels that sinned, but 
cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains of 
darkness, to be reserved unto judgement; and spared not 
the old world, but saved Noah t^ i eighth person, a preacher 
of righteousness, bringing in the flood upon the world of 
the ungodly; and tinning the cities of Sodom and Gomor- 
rah into ashes, condemned them with an overthrow, mak- 



Ex. 5.] EXERCISES OF INFLECTION. 85 

ing them an ensample unto those that after should liye un- 
godly ; And delivered just Lot, vexed with the filthy con- 
versation of the wicked : (For that righteous man dwelling 
among them, in seeing and hearing, vexed his righteous 
soul from day to day with their unlawful deeds;) The Lord 
knoweth how to deliver the godly out of temptations, and to 
reserve the unjust unto the day of judgement to be punished. 

2. If reason teaches the learned, necessity the barbarian, 
common custom all nations in general ; and if even nature 
itself instructs the brutes to defend their bodies, limbs, and 
lives, when attacked, by all possible methods ; you cannot 
pronounce this action criminal, without determining at the 
same time that whoever falls into the hands of a highway- 
man, must of necessity perish either by his sword or your 
decisions. Had Milo been of this opinion, he would cer- 
tainly have chosen to fall by the hands of Clodius, who had 
more than once, before this, made an attemp: upon his life, 
rather than be executed by your order, because he had not 
tamely yielded himself a victim to his rage. But if none 
of you are of this opinion, the proper question is, not wheth- 
er Clodius was killed 1 for that we grant: but whether just- 
ly or unjustly? an inquiry of which many precedents are to 
be found. 

3. Seeing then that the soul has many different faculties, 
or in other words, many different ways of acting; that it 
can be intensely pleased or made happy by all these_d lifer- 
ent faculties, or ways of acting ; that it may be endowed 
with several latent faculties, w 7 hch it is not at present in a 
condition to exert ; that we cannot believe the soul is en- 
dowed with any faculty which is of no use to it; that when- 
ever any one of these faculties is transcendently pleased, 
the soul is in a state of happiness; and in the last place, 
considering that the happiness of another world is to be the 
happiness of the whole man; who can question but that 
there is an infinite variety in those pleasures w r e are speak- 
ing of; and that this fulness of joy will be made up of all 
those pleasures which the nature of the soul is capable of 
receiving. 

4. When the gay and smiling aspect of things has be- 
gun to leave the passages to a man's heart thus thoughtlessly 
unguarded; when kind and caressing looks of every object 
without, that can flatter his senses, has conspired with the 
enemy within, to betray him and put him off his defence: 

8 



86 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 5. 

when music likewise hath lent her aid, and tried her power 
upon the passions; when the voice of singing men, and the 
voice of singing women, with the sound of the viol and the 
mte, have broken in upon his soul, and in some tender 
notes have touched the secret springs of rapture, — that mo- 
ment let us dissect and look into his heart ; — see how vain, 
how weak, hoAV empty a thing it is ! 

5. Beside the ignorance of masters who teach the first 
rudiments of reading, and the want of skill, or negligence in 
that article, of those who teach the learned languages ; be- 
side the erroneous manner, which the untutored pupils fall 
into, through the want of early attention in masters, to cor- 
rect small faults in the beginning, which increase and gain 
strength with years : beside bad habits contracted from imi- 
tation of particular persons, or the contagion of example, 
from a general prevalence of a certain tone or chant in read- 
ing or reciting, peculiar to each school, and regularly trans- 
mitted, from one generation of boys to another: beside all 
these which are fruitful sources of vicious elocution, there 
is one fundamental error, in the method universally used in 
teaching to read, which at first gives a wrong bias, and 
leads us ever after blindfold from the right path, under the 
guidance of a false rule. 

6. A guilty or a discontented mind, a mind, ruffled by 
ill fortune, disconcerted by its own passions, soured by ne- 
glect, or fretting at disappointments, hath not leisure to 
attend to the necessity or reasonableness of a kindness de- 
sired, nor a taste for those pleasures which wait on benefi- 
cence, which demand a calm and unpolluted heart to relish 
them. 

7. "I perfectly remember, that when Calidius prose- 
cuted Q,. Gallius for an attempt to poison him, and pretend- 
ed that he had the plainest proofs of it, and could produce 
many letters, witnesses, informations, and other evidences 
to put the truth of his charge beyond a doubt, interspersing 
many sensible and ingenious remarks on the nature of the 
srime ; 1 remember," says Cicero, " that when it came to 
vny turn to reply to him, after urging every argument which 
die case itself suggested, I insisted upon it as a material cir- 
cumstance in favor of my client, that the prosecutor, while 
tie charged him with a design against his life, and assured 
us that he had the most indubitable proofs of it then in 
his hands, related his story with as much ease, and as much 



Ex. 5.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 87 

calmness and indifference, as if nothing had happened." 
— " Would it have been possible," exclaimed Cicero, (ad- 
dressing himself to Calidius,) "that you should speak with 
this air of unconcern, unless the charge was purely an in 
vention of your own? — and, above all, that you, whose elo- 
quence has often vindicated the wrongs of other people with 
so much spirit, should speak so coolly of a crime which 
threatened your life?" 

8. To acquire a thorough knowledge of our own hearts 
and characters, to restrain every irregular inclination, — to 
subdue every rebellious passion, — to purify the motives of 
our conduct, — rto form ourselves to that temperance which 
no pleasure can seduce, — to that meekness which no pro- 
vocation can ruffle, — to that patience which no affliction 
can overwhelm, and that integrity which no interest can 
shake; this is the task which is assigned to us, — a task 
which cannot be performed without the utmost diligence and 
care. 

9. The beauty of a plain, the greatness of a mountain, 
the ornaments of a building, the expression of a picture, 
the composition oj" a discourse, the conduct of a third per- 
son, the proportion of different quantities and numbers, the 
various appearances .which the great machine of the uni- 
verse is perpetually exhibiting, the secret wheels and springs 
which produce them, all the general subjects of science and 
taste, are what we and our companions regard as having no 
peculiar relation to either of us. 

10. Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, 

Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne, 

View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes, 

And hate for arts that caus'd himself to rise ; 
5 Damn with faint praise, absent with civil leer, 

And, without sneering, teach the rest to sneer; 

Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, 

Just hint a fau ] t, and hesitate dislike; 

Alike reserv'd to blame, or to commend, 
10 A tim'rous foe, and a suspicious friend, 

Dreading even fools, by Flatterers besieg'd, 

And so obliging, that he ne'er oblig'd ; 

Like Cato, give his little senate laws, 

And sit attentive to his own applause ; 
15 While Wits and Templars every sentence raise, 

And wonder with a foolish face of praise — 



88 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 5, 6. 

Who but must laugh, if such a man there be ? 
Who would not weep, if Atti'cus were he ! 

11. For these reasons, the senate and people of Athens, 
(with due veneration to the gods and heroes, and guardians 
of the Athenian city and territory, whose aid they now im- 
plore ; and with due attention to the virtue of their ances- 
tors, to whom the general liberty of Greece was ever dearer 
than the particular interest of their own state,) have resolved 
that a fleet of two hundred vessels shall be sent to sea, the 
admiral to cruise within the straits of Thermopylae. 

As to my own abilities in speaking, (for I shall admit 
this charge, although experience hath convinced me, that 
what is called the power of eloquence depends for the most 
part upon the hearers, and that the characters of public 
speakers are determined by that degree of favor which you 
vouchsafe to each,) if long practice, I say, hath given me 
any proficiency in speaking, you have ever found it devoted 
to my country.* 

Of the various exceptions which fall under the rule of suspending 
inflection, the only one which needs additional exemplification, is 
that, where emphasis requires the intensive falling slide, to express 
the true sense. See pp. 32 &43. In some cases of this sort, the omis- 
sion of the falling slide only weakens the meaning ; in others it sub- 
verts it. 

1. If the population of this country were to remain station- 
ary, a great increase of effort would be necessary to supply 
each family with a Bible ; but how much' when this popula- 
tion is increasing every day. 

2. The man who cherishes a strong ambition for prefer- 
ment, if he does not fall into adulation and servility, is in 
danger of loosing all manly independence. 

3. For if the mighty works which have been in thee had 
been done in Sodom,] it would have remained unto this day. 



Exercise 6. 
Page 32. Tender emotion inclines the voice to the rising slide 
1. And when Joseph came home, they brought him the 

* T have not thought it necessary to give examples of the cases in 
which emphasis requires the falling slide at the close of a parenthesis. 

t Even in Sodom, is the paraphrase of this emphasis, and so in the 
wo preceding examples. 



Ex. 6.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 89, 

present which was in their hand, into the house, and bowed 
themselves to him, to the earth. And he asked them of 
their welfare, and said, Is your father well, the old man of 
whom ye spake? Is he yet alive? — And they answered, 
Thy servant our father is in good health, he is yet alive: 
and they bowed down their heads, and made obeisance. — 
And he lifted up his eyes, and saw his brother Benjamin, 
his mother s son, and said, Is this your younger brother, of 
whom ye spake unto me! And he said, God be gracious 
unto thee, my son. And Joseph made haste ; — for his bow- 
els did yearn upon his brother: and he sought where to 
weep ; and he entered into his chamber, and wept there. 



2. Methinks I see a fair and lovely child, 
Sitting compos' d upon his mother's knee,- 
And reading with a low and lisping voice 
Some passage from the Sabbath ;* while the tears 
5 Stand in his little eyes so softly blue, 

Till, quite o'ercome with pity, his Avhite arms 
He twines around her neck, and hides his sighs 
Most infantine, within her gladden' d breast, 
Like a sweet lamb, half sportive, half afraid, 

10 Nestling one moment 'neath its bleating dam; 
And now r the happy mother kisses oft 
The tender-hearted child, lays down the book, 
And asks him if he doth remember still 
A str?nger who once gave him, long ago, 

15 A parting kiss, and blest his laughing eyes! 
His sobs speak fond remembrance, and he weeps 
To think so kind and-good a man should die. 



3. Ye who have anxiously and fondly watched 
Beside a fading friend, unconscious that 
The cheek's uright crimson, lovely to the view, 
Like nightshade with unwholesome beauty bloomed, 
And that the sufferer's bright dilated eye, 
Like mouldering wood, owes to decay alone 
Its wondrous lustre: — ye who still have hoped, 
Even in death's dread presence, but at length 
Have heard the summons, (O heart-freezing call!) 

* Sabbath, — a poem. 

8* 



90 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 6, 7. 

10 To pay the last sad duties, and to hear 
Upon the silent dwelling's narro.v lid 
The first earth thrown, (sound deadliest to the soul! — 
For, strange delusion ! then, and then, alone, 
Hope seems for ever fled, and the dread pang 

15 Of final separation to begin) — 

Ye who have felt all this — O pay my verse 
The mournful meed of sympathy, and own, 
Own with a sigh, the sombre picture's just. 



Exercise 7. 

Page 33. The indirect question and its answer have the 
falling inflection. _ „ 

The interrogative mark is here inverted, to render it significant of 
its office, in distinction from the direct question, which turns the voice 
upward. 

1. The governor answered and said unto them, Whether 
of the twain will ye that I release unto you i They said, 
Barabbas. Pilate said unto them, What shall I do then 
with Jesus, which is called Christ i They all say unto him, 
Let him be crucified. And the governor said, Why i what 
evil hath he done i But they cried out the more, saying, 
Let him be crucified. 

2. Where now is the splendid robe of the consulate i 
Where are the brilliant torches i Where are the applauses 
and dances, the feasts and entertainments j Where are the 
coronets and canopies i Where the huzzas of the city, the 
compliments of the circus, and the flattering acclamations of 
the spectators i All these have perished. 

3. I hold it to be an unquestionable position, that they 
who duly appreciate the blessings of liberty, revolt as much 
from the idea of exercising, as from that of enduring, oppres- 
sion. How far this was the case with the Romans, you may 
inquire of those nations that surrounded them. Ask them, 
* What insolent guard paraded before their gates, and invest- 
ed their strong holds i ' They will answer, ' A Roman le- 
gionary.' Demand of them, • What greedy extortioner fat- 
tened by their poverty, and clothed himself by their naked 
ness^ Tbey will inform you, * A Roman Quaestor.' In- 
quire of them, ' What imperious stranger issued to them his 



Ex. 7.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 91 

mandates of imprisonment or confiscation, of banishment or 
death £ They will reply to you, c A Roman Consul.' ' Ques- 
tion them, ' What haughty conqueror led through his city, 
their nobles and kings in chains; and exhibited their coun- 
trymen, by thousands, in gladiators' shows for the amuse- 
ment of his fellow citizens £ They will tell you : ' A Ro- 
man General.' Require of them. ' What tyrants imposed 
the heaviest yoke i — enforced the most rigorous exactions i 
— inflicted the most savage punishments, and showed the 
greatest gust for blood and torture j' They will exclaim to 
you, ' The Roman people.' 

4. Let us now consider the principal point, whether the 
place where they encountered was most favorable to Milo, 
or to Clodius. Were the affair to be represented , only by 
painting, instead of being expressed by words, it would even 
then clearly appear which was the traitor, and which was 
free from all mischievous designs: When the one was sit- 
ting in his chariot, muffled up in his cloak, and his wife 
along with him ; which of these circumstances was not a 
very great incumbrance { the dress, the chariot, or the com- 
panion i How could he be worse equipped for engagement, 
when he was wrapped up in a cloak, embarrassed with a 
chariot, and almost fettered by his wife i Observe the other 
now, in the first place, sallying out on a sudden from his seat ; 
for w r hat reason j — in the evening ; what urged him i — late; 
to what purpose, especially at that season i — He calls at Pom- 
pey's seat, with what view i To see Pompey ? He knew 
he was at Alsium. — To see his house? He had been in it 
a thousand times — What then could be the reason of this 
loitering and shifting about i He wanted to be upon the spot 
when Milo came up. 



5. Wherefore cease we then i 
Say they who counsel war, we are decreed, 
Reserved, and destined to eternal woe ; 
Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, 
5 What can we suffer worse i Is this then worst, 
Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms? 
What! when we fled amain, pursued and struck 
With heav'n's afflicting thunder, and besought 
The deep to shelter us — this Hell then seem'd 
10 A refuge from those wounds: or when we lay 



92 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 7, 8. 

Chain'd on the burning lake, — that sure was worse. 
What, if the breath, that kindled those grim fires, 
Awak'd, should blow them into sev'nfold rage, 
And plunge us in the flames i or from above 

15 Should intermitted vengeance arm again 
His red right-hand to plague us i what if all 
Her stores were open'd, and this firmament 
Of Hell should spout her cataracts of fire, 
Impendent horrors, threat'ning hideous fall 

20 One day upon our heads ; while we perhaps, 
Designing or exhorting glorious war, 
Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurl'd, 
Each on his rock transfix' d, the sport and prey 
Of wracking whirlwinds; or forever sunk 

25 Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains ; 
There to converse with everlasting groans, 
Unrespited, unpitied, unrepriev'd, 
Ages of hopeless end ! This would be wore. 

Milton. 



6. But, first, whom shall we send 
In search of the new w r orld i whom shall we find 
Sufficient £ who shall tempt with wand'ring feet 
The dark unbottom'd infinite abyss, 
5 And through the palpable obrcure find out 
His uncouth way, or spread his airy flight, 
Upborne with indefatigable wings, 
Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive 
The happy isle % what strength, what art, can then 

10 Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe 

Through the strict senteries and stations thick 
Of Angels watching round i Here he had need 
All circumspection, and we now no less 
Choice in our suffrage; for on whom we send, 

15 The weight of all, and our last h£pe, relies. Milton. 



Exercise 8. 
Page 34. Language of authority, of surprise, and of dis- 
tress, com,monly requires the falling inflection. Denuncia- 
tion, reprehension, fyc. come under this head. 
1. Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways, and 



Ex. 8.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 93 

be wise : — which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, pro- 
videth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in 
the harvest. How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard 1 when 
wilt thou arise out of thy sleep? — Yet a little sleep, a liuie 
slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep : — So shall thy 
poverty come as one that traveleth, and thy want as an arm- 
ed man. 

2. And when the king came in to see the guests, he saw 
there a man that had not on a wedding-garment : — And he 
saith unto him, friend, how earnest thou in hither, not hav 
ing a wedding-garment % And he was speechless. — Then 
said the king to the servants, bind him, hand and foot, and 
take him away, and cast him into outer darkness : there 
shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. 

3. Then he which had received the one talent came, and 
said, Lord, I knew thee that thou art a hard man, reap- 
ing where thou hast not sown, and gathering where thou 
hast not strewed: — And I was afraid, and went and hid thy 
talent in the earth : lo there thou hast that is thine. — His 
lord answered and said unto him, thou wicked and slothful 
servant, — thou knewest that I reap where I sowed not,* and 
gather where I have not strewed : — Thou oughtest therefore 
to have put my money to the exchangers, and then at my 
coming I should have received my own with usury. Take 
therefore the talent from him, and give it unto him which 
hath ten talents. — And case ye the unprofitable servant into 
outer darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of 
teeth. 

4. Then began he to upbraid the cities wherein most of 
his mighty works were done, because they repented not. — 
Wo unto thee, Chorazin ! wo unto thee Bethsaida ! for if 
*he mighty works w T hich were done in you, had been done 
in Tyre and Sidon, f they would have repented long ago in 
sackcloth and ashes. — But I say unto you, It shall be more 
tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at the day of judgement than 
for you. And thou, Capernaum, which art exalted unto 
heaven, shall be brought down to hell : for if the mighty 
works which have been done in thee, had been done in 



* This clause uttered with a high note and the falling slide, ex- 
presses censure better with the common punctuation, than if it were 
marked with the interrogation. 

t Even in Tyre and Sidon, is the paraphrase of the emphasis. 



94 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 8 

Sbdom it would have remained until this day. — But I say 
unto you, That it shall be more tolerable for the land of So- 
dom in the day of judgement, than for thee. 

5. Such, sir, was once the disposition of a people, who 
now surround your throne with reproaches and complaints. 
Dc justice to yourself. Banish from your mind those un- 
worthy opinions, with which some interested persons have 
labored to possess you. Distrust the men who tell you that 
the English are naturally light and inconstant; that they 
complain without a cause. Withdraw your confidence equally 
from all parties; from ministers, favorites, and relations; anJ 
let there be one moment in your life, in which you have con- 
sulted your own understanding. 



6. You have done that, you should be sorry for. 

There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; 

For I am arm'd so strong in honesty, 

That they pass by me as the idle wind, 
5 Which I respect not. I did send to you 

For certain sums of gold, which you denied me, — 

For I can raise no money by vile means ; 

1 had rather coin my heart, 

And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring 
10 From the hard hands of peasants' their vile trash, 

By any indirection. I did send 

To you for gold to pay my legions, 

Which you denied me : V\ r as that done like Cassius ? 

Should / have answer" d Caius Cassius so? 
15 When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, 

To lock such rascal counters from his friends 

* Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, 

Dash him to pieces ! Shakspeare. 



7. The war, that for a space did fail, 
Now trebly thundering swell'd the gale, 

And — Stanley ! was the cry ; — ' 
A light on Mar m ion's visage spread, 

And fired his glazing eye : 



* The reader will observe, that the notation is more various, as the 
examples become longer, including more variety of rhetorical prin- 
ciples. 



Ex. 8] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 95 

With dying hand, above his head, 
He shook the fragment of his blade, 

And shouted — " Victory ! 
Charge, Chester, Charge! on, Stanly, on /" 
Were the last words of Marmion ! 



8. So judge thou still, presumptuous ! — till the wrath 
Which thou incurr'st by flying, meet thy flight. 
Sev'nfold, and scourge that wisdom back to Hell, 
Which taught thee yet no better, that no pain 
5 Can equal anger infinite provok'd 

But wherefore thou aloAe ? wherefore with thee 
Came not all Hell broke loose % is pain to them 
Less pain, less to be fled ? or thou than they 
Less hardy to endure? Courageous Chief! 
10 The first in flight from pain ! — hadst thou alleged 
To thy deserted host this cause of flight, 
Thou surely hadst not come sole fugitive, 

Milton. 



9. To whom the warrior Angel soon reply 1 d. 

To say, and straight unsay, pretending first 

Wise to fly pain, professing next the spy, 

Argues no leader, but a liar, trac'd, 
5 Satan ! — and could' ?t thou faithful add? O name, 

O sacred name of faithfulness profan'd ! 

Faithful to whom? to thy rebellious crew? 

Army of Fiends ! — fit body to fit head ! 

Was this your discipline and faith engag'd, 
10 Your military obedience, to dissolve 

Allegiance to th' acknowledged Pow'r supreme? 

And thou, sly hypocrite, who now wouldst seem 

Patron of liberty, who move than thou 

Once fawn'd, and cring'd, and servilely ador'd 
15 Heav'n's awful Monarch? wherefore, but in hope 

To disposses him, and thyself to reign. 

But mark what I arreed thee now ; — A vaunt : 

Fly thither whence thou fled'st : if from this hour, 

Within these hallow'd limits thou appear, 
20 Back to th' infernal pi! I drag thee chained. 

And seal thee so, as henceforth not to scorn 

The facile gates of Hell, too slightly barr'd. Milton. 



96 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 8, 

Apostrophe and exclamation, as well as the imperative mode, 
when accompanied by emphasis, incline the voice to the falling in- 
flection. 

10. Oh ! deep enchanting prelude to repose, 
The dawn of bliss, the twilight of our woes! 
Yet half I hear the panting spirit sigh, 
It is a dread and awful thing to die ! 
5 Mysterious worlds! untravell'd by the sun, 
Where Time's far wandering tide has never run, 
From your unfathom'd shades, and viewless spheres, 
A warning comes, unheard by other oars — 
J Tis heaven's commanding trumpet, long and loud, 

10 Like Sinai's thunder, peeling from the cloud! 
Daughter of Faith, awake ! arise ! illume 
The dread unknown, the chaos of the tomb ! 
Melt, and dispel, ye spectre doubts, that roll 
Cimmerian darkness on the parting soul! 

15 Fly, like the moon-eyed herald of dismay, 
Chased on his night-steed, by the star of day ! 
The strife is o'er ! — the pangs of nature close, 
And life's last rapture triumphs o'er her woes 1 
Hark ! as the spirit eyes, with eagle gaze, 

20 The noon of heaven, undazzled by the blaze, 
On heavenly winds that waft her to the sky, 
Float the sweet tones of star-born melody; 
Wild as the hallow' d anthem sent to hail 
Bethlehem's shepherds in the lonely vale, 

25 When Jordan hush'd his waves, and midnight still 
Watch'd on the holy towers of Zion hill! 

Campbell. 



11, Piety has found 

Friends in the Friends of science, and true prayer 
Has flow'd from lips wet with Castalian dews. 
Such was thy wisdom, Newton, child-like sage ! 

5 Sagacious reader of the Works of God, 

And in his Word sagacious. Such too thine, 
Milton, whose genius had angelic wings, 
And fed on manna. And such thine, in whom 
Our British Themis gloried with just cause, 

10 Immortal Hale ! for deep discernment prais'd, 
And sound integrity, not more, than fam'd 
For sanctity of manners undehTd. 



Ex. 8.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 9~ 

12. These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, 
Almighty, thine this universal frame, 
Thus wond'rous fair; thyself how wond'rous then! 
Unspeakable, Avho sitt'st above these heavms 
5 To us invisible, or dimly seen 

In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare 
Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine. 
Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, 
Angels; for ye behold him, and with songs 

10 And choral symphonies, day without night, 
Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in Hertven, 
On earth, join all ye creatures to extol 
Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. 
Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, 

15 If better thou belong not to the dawn, 

Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn 
With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, 
While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. 
Thou Sun, of this great world both eye and soul, 

20 Acknowledge. him thy greater, sound his praise 
In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, 
And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'si 
Moon, that now meet'st the orient Sun, now fly'st, 
With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies, 

25 And ye five other wand' ring Fires, that move 
In mystic dance, not without song, resound 
His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light. 
Air, and ye Elements, the eldest birth 
Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run 

30 Perpetual circle, multiform ; and mix, 

And nourish all thing:-, let your ceaseless change 
Vary to our great Maker still new praise. 
His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, 
Breathe soft or loud ; ancfwave your tops, ye pines, 

35 With every plant, in sign of worship, wave. 
Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow, 
Melodious murmurs, warbling, tune his praise. 
Join voices all, ye living Souls ; ye Birds, 
That singing, up to Heaven's gate ascend, 

40 Bear on your wings, and in your notes his praise. 

Milton, 
9 



98 exercises on inflection. [ex. 9 

Exercise 9. 
Page 35. Emphatic succession of particulars requires the 

falling slide. 

Notes 1 and 2, page 35, should be examined before reading this cl'dss 
of Exercises. 

1. He answered and said unto him, He that soweth the 
good seed is the Son of man; — the field is the world; the 
good seed are the children of the kingdom: but the taies 
ire the children of the wicked one ; — the enemy that sowed 
\nem is the devil : the harvest is the end of the world ; and 
die reapers are the angels. 

2. For to one is given by the Spirit the word of wisdom ; 
to another, the word of knowledge, by the same Spirit ; — to 
another, faith, by the same Spirit; — to another, the gifts of 
healing, by the same Spirit ; — to another, the working of 
niracles ; to another, prophecy; to another, discerning of 
spirits ; to another, divers kinds of tongues ; — to another, 
ihe interpretation of tongues. 

3. Holiness is ascribed to the Pope; majesty, to kings; 
serenity, or mildness of temper, to princes ; excellence, or 
perfection, to ambassadors ; grace, to archbishops ; honor, to 
peers; worship, or venerable behavior, to magistrates; and 
reverence, which is of the same import, as the former, to the 
inferior clergy. 

4. It pleases me to think that I, who know so small a 
portion of the works of the Creator, and with slow and 
painful steps, creep jp and down on the surface of this 
globe, shall, ere long, shoot away with the swiftness of im- 
agination ; trace out the hidden springs of nature's opera- 
tions ; be able to keep pace with the heavenly bodies in the 
rapidity of their career ; be a spectator of the long chain of 
events in the natural and moral worlds; visit the several 
apartments of creation; know how they are furnished and 
how inhabited; comprehend the order and measure, the 
magnitude and distances of those orbs, which, to us, seem 
disposed without any regular design, and set all in the same 
circle ; observe the dependents of the parts of each system ; 
and (if our minds are big enough) grasp the theory of the 
several systems upon one another, from w r hence results the 
harmony of the universe. 

5. He who cannot persuade himself to wiihdraw r from 
society, must be content to pay a tribute of his time to a 



Ex. 9, 10.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 99 

multitude of tyrants; to the loiterer, who makes appoint- 
ments he never keeps — to the consulter, who asks advice 
lie never takes — to the boaster, who blusters only to be 
praised — to the complainer, who whines only to be pitied 
—to the projector, whose happiness is oniy to entertain 
his friends with expectations, which all but himself know to 
be vain — to the economist, who tells of bargains and set- 
tlements — to the politician, who predicts the fate of battles 
and breach of alliances — to the usurer, who compares the 
different funds — and to the talker, wko talks only because ne 
loves talking. 

G. That a man, to whom he was, in great measure, be- 
holden for his crown, and even for his life ! a man to w r hom, 
by every honor and favor, he had endeavored to expres* 
his gratitude; whose brother, the earl of Derby, w r as his owr 
father-in-law ; to whom be had even committed the trust of 
his person, by creating him lord chamberlain ; that a mar 
enjoying his full confidence and affection ; not actuated by 
any motive of discontent or apprehension ; that this man 
should engage in a conspiracy against him, he deemed abso- 
lutely false and incredible. 

7. I w r ould fain ask one of those bigoted infidels, suppos- 
ing all the great points of atheism, as the casual or eternal 
formation of the w T 6rld, the materiality of a thinking sub- 
stance, the mortality of the soul, the fortuitous organization 
of the body, the motion and gravitation of matter, with the 
like particulars, were laid together, and formed into a kind 
of creed, according to the opinions of the most celebrated 
atheists; I say supposing such a creed as this were formed 
and imposed upon any one people in the world, whether it 
would not require an infinitely greater measure of faith, than 
any set of articles which they so violently oppose. 

Exercise 10. 

h'age 36. Emphatic repetition requ ires the falling inflection , 
though the principle of the suspending slide, or the inter- 
rogative, may form an exception. 

1. And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the 
knife to slay his son. — And the angel of the Lord called 
unto him out of heaven, and said, Abraham, Abraham. — 
And he said, Here am I. 



190 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 10. 

2. And the king was much moved, and went up to the 
chamber of the gate, and wept : and as he went, thus he 
said, O my son Absalom! — my son, my son Absalom! — ■ 
would God 1 had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my 
son ! 

3. O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, ! — thou that killest the proph- 
ets, and sternest them which are sent unto thee! — how often 
w T ouid I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen 
gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not ! 

4. But the subject is too awful for irony. T will speak 
plainly and directly. Newton was a Christian ! Newton, 
whose mind burst forth from the fetters cast by nature upon 
our finite conceptions. — Newton, whose science was truth, 
and the foundation of whose knowledge of it was philosophy : 
not those visionary and arrogant pre r mptions, which too 
often usurp its name, but philosophy re nag upon the basis 
of mathematics, which, like figures, cannot lie — Newton, who 
carried the line and rule to the utmost barriers of creation, 
?nd explored the principles by which, no doubt, all created 
matter is held together and exists. 



5. To die, they say, is noble — as a soldier — 
But with such guides, to point th' unerring road, 
Such able guides, such arms and discipline 
As I have had, my soul would sorely feel 
5 The dreadful pang which keen reflections give, 

Should she in death's dark porch, while life was ebbing, 
Receive the judgement, and this vile reproach : — 
" Long hast thou wander'd in a stranger's land, 
A stranger to thyself and to thy God : 

10 The heavenly hills were oft within thy view, 
And oft the shepherd call'd thee to his flock, 
And call'd in vain. — A thousand monitors 
Bade thee return, and walk in wisdom's ways. 
The seasons, as they roll'd, bade thee return ; 

15 The glorious sun, in his diurnal round, 

Beheld thy wandering, and bade thee return ; 
The night, an emblem of the night of death, 
Bade thee return : the risieg mounds, 
Which told the traveller where the dead repose 

20 In tenements of clay, bade thee return; 
And at thy father's grave, the filial tear, 



Ex. 10, 11.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 101 

Which dear remembrance gave, bade thee return, 
And dwell in Virtue's tents, on Z ion's hill! 
— Here thy career be stay'd rebellious man ! 
25 Long hast thou liv'd a cumberer of the ground. 
Millions are shipwreck'd on life's stormy coast, 
With all their charts on board, and powerful aid, 
Because their lofty pride disdained to learn 
Th' instructions of a pilot, and a God.' 7 



On Cadence, Circumflex, and Accent, no additional illus- 
trations seem to be required in the Exercises. 



EXERCISES OX EMPHASIS. 

It was necessary in the rules to examine and exemplify the 
difference between emphatic stress, and emphatic inflec- 
tion, and also between absolute and relative stress. The 
examples, however, illustrating these distinctions, must 
generally be taken from single sentences a?i(l clauses. But 
as I wish here to introduce such passages as have consid- 
erable length, I hare concluded to arrange them all under 
the general heoA 0/ Emphasis, leaving the reader to class 
particular instances of stress, and inflection, according to 
the principles laid down page 39 to 47. 



Exercise 11. 

1. He that planted the ear, shall he not hear? he that 
formed the eye, shall he not see ? — he that chastiseth the 
heathen, shall not he correct ? — he that teacheth man know- 
ledge, shall not he know? 

2. The queen of the south shall rise up in the judgement 
with the men of this generation, and condemn them: for 
she came from the utmost parts of the earth, to hear the 
wisdom of Solomon ; and behold, a greater than Solomon 
is here. — The men of Nineveh shall rise up in the judge- 
ment with this generation, and shall condemn it ; for they 
repented at the preaching of Jonas ; and behold, a greatei 
than Jonas is here. 

3. But when the Pharisees heard it, they said, This 
fellow doth not cast out devils, but by Beelzebub, the prince 
of the devils. 2 And Jesus knew their thoughts, and said 
unto them, Every kingdom divided against itself, is brought 
to desolation; and every city or house divided against itself 

a* 



102 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 11. 

shall not stand. 3 And if Satan cast out Satan, he is divid- 
ed against himself; how shall then his kingdom stand? And 
if I by Beelzebub cast out devils, hy whom do your children 
cast them out? therefore they shall be your judges. But if 
I cast out devils by the Spirit of God, then the kingdom of 
God is come unto you. 4 Or else how can one enter into a 
strong man's house, and spoil his goods, except he first bh>.i 
the strong man? and then he will spoil his house. 

4. And behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempt- 
ed him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal 
life? 2 He said unto him, What is written in the law? 
how readest thou ? 3 And he answering said, Thou shalt 
love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy 
soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind ; and 
thy neighbour as thyself. 4 And he said unto him, Thou 
hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live. — But he, 
willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And who Is my 
neighbour? 5 And Jesus answering, said, A certain man 
went down from Jerusalem to Jerico, and fell among thieves, 
which stripped him of his raiment, and w r ounded him, and 
departed, leaving him half dead. 6 And by chance there- 
came down a certain priest that way; and when he saw 
him, he passed by on the other side. — And likewise a he- 
vite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, 
and passed by on the other side. 7 But a certain Samaritan, 
as he journeyed, came where he was; and when he saw 
him, he had compassion on him, — and went to him, and 
bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him 
on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took 
care of him. 8 And on the morrow, when he departed, 
he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said 
unto him, Take care of him: and whatsoever thou spendest 
more, when I come again, I will repay thee. 9 Which now 
of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that 
fell among the thieves? — And he said, He that shewed 
mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go and do thou 
likewise. 

5. For if you now pronounce, that, as my public conduct 
hath not been right, Ctesiphon must stand condemned, it 
must be thought that yourselves have acted wrong, not that 
you owe your present state to the caprice of fortune. But 
it cannot be. jSo, my countrymen ! It cannot be you 
have acted wrong, in encountering danger bravely, for the 



Ex. 11, 12.J EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 103 

liberty and safety of all Greece. No! By those generous 
souls of ancient times, who were exposed at Marathon ! 
By those who stood arrayed at Plafea! By those who en- 
countered the Persian fleet at Salamis ! who fought at Ar- 
temlsmm ! By all those illustrious sons of Athens, whose 
remains lie deposited in the public monuments ! All of 
whom received the same honorable interment from their 
country: Not those only who prevailed, not those only who 
w r e^'e victorious. And with reason. What was the part of 
gallant men they all performed; their success was such as 
the Supreme Director of the world dispensed to each. 



Exercise 12. 
Like other tyrants, death delights to smite, 

What, smitten, most proclaims the pride of pow'r, 

And arbitrary nod. His joy supreme, 

To bid the wretch survive the fortunate ; 
5 The feeble wrap the athletic in his shroud; 

And weeping fathers build their children's tomb: 

Me thine, Narcissa ! — What though short thy date? 

Virtue, not rolling sihis, the mind matures. 

That life is long, which answers life's great end. 
10 The tree that bears no fruit, deserves no name; 

The man of wisdom, is the man of years. 

Narcissa's youth has lectur'd me thus far. 

Andean her gaiety give counsel too? 

That, like the Jew's fam'd oracle of gems, 
15 Sparkles instruction; such as throws new light, 

And opens more the character of death ; 

111 known to thee, Lorenzo : This thy vaunt; 

" Give death his due, the wretched, and the old ; 

" Let him not violate kind nature's laws. 
20 " But own man born to live as well as die." 

Wretched and old thou givest him ; young and gay 

He takes ; and plunder is a tyrant's joy. 

* Fortune, with youth and gaiety, conspir'd - 

To weave a triple wreath of happiness, 
25 (If happiness on earth,) to crown her brow, 

And could death charge through such a shining shield? 
That shining shield invites the tyrant's spear; 

As if to damp our elevated aims, 

* In this place, and in many others, the connexion of the author is 
broken in the selections, without notice. 



104 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 12, 13 

And strongly preach humility to man. 
O how portentous is prosperity ! 
How, comet-like, it threatens, while it shines! 
Few years but yield us proof of death's ambition, 
5 To cull his victims from the fairest fold, 
And sheath his shafts in all the pride of life. 
When flooded with abundance, and purpled o'er 
With recent honors, bloom' d with ev'ry bliss, 
Set up in ostentation, made the gaze, 

10 The gaudy centre, of the public eye, 

When fortune thus has toss'd her child in air, 
Snatch'd from the covert of an humble state, 
How often have I seen him drdpp'd at once, 
Our morning's envy [ and our ev'ning's sigh ! 

15 Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow ; 
A blow, which, while it executes, alarms; 
And startles thousands with a single fall. 
( ) As when some stately growth of oak or pine, 
Which nods aloft, and pimdly spreads her shade. 

20 The sun's defiance, and the nock's defence ; 
By the strong strokes of lab'ring hinds subdu'd 
Loud groans her last, and rushing from her height, 
In cumb'rous ruin, thunders to the ground : 
The conscious forest trembles at the shock, 

25 And hill, and stream, and distant dale resound.* 

Y 011V 2. 



Exercise 13. 
Genius and art, ambition's boasted wings, 

Our boast but ill deserve. 

If these alone 



Assist our flight, fame! s flight is glory 1 s fall. 

30 Heart-merit wanting, mount we ne'er so high, 
Our height is but the gibbet of our name. 
A celebrated wretch when 1 behold, 
When 1 behold a genius bright, and base, 
Gf tow'ring talents, and terrestrial aims; 

35 Methinks I see, as thrown from her high sphere, 
The glorious fragments of a soul immortal, 
With rubbish mixt, and glittering in the dust. 
Struck c.t the splendid, melancholy sight, 



* In the following Exercises, the marks of modulation are occasion- 
4ily used. 



Ex 13.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 105 

At once compassion soft, and envy rise- 



But wherefore envy? Talents, angel -bright, 

W wanting ivorth, are shining instruments 

In false ambition's hand, to finish faults 
5 Illustrious, and give infamy renown. 

Great ill is an achievement of great poitfrs. 

Plain sense but rarely leads us far astray, 

Me cms have no merit, if our end amiss. 

Hearts are proprietors of all applause. 
10 Right ends, and means make wisdom: Worldly-wise 

Is but hdlf-witied, at its highest praise. 

Let genius then despair to make thee great ; 

Nor flatter station: What is station high? 

'Tis a proud mendicant ; it boasts and begs ; 
15 It begs an alms of homage from the throng. 

And oft the throng denies its charity. 

Monarchs and ministers, are awful names; 

Whoever wear them, challenge our devoir. 

Religion, public order, both exact 
20 External homage, and a supple knee, 

To beings pompously set up, to serve 

The meanest slave ; all more is merit's due, 

Her sacred and inviolable right, 

Nor ever paid the monarch, but the man, 
25 Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior worth ; 

Nor ex vv fail of their allegiance there. 

Fools, indeed drop the man in their account, 

And vote the mantle into majesty. 

Let the small savage boast his silver fur ; 
SO His royal robe unborrowed and unbought, 

His own, descending fairly from his sires. 

Shall man be proud to wear his lifery, 

And souls in ermine scorn a soul without? 

Can place or lessen us, or aggrandize? 
35 Pigmies are pigmies still, though perch'd on Alps ; 

And pyramids are pyramids in vales 

Each man makes his oicn statue, builds himself; 

Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids: 

Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall. 
40 —Thy bosom burns for pow'r ; 

What station charms thee % I'll install thee there ; 

'Tis thine. And art thou greater than before? 

Then thou before was something less than man. 



106 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [E.X. 13, 14. 

Has thy new post betray* d thee into pride? 

That treacivrous pride betrays thy dignity ; 

That pride defames humanity, and calls 
5 The being mean, which staffs or strings can raise. 
High worth is elevated place : ; Tis more; 

It makes the post stand candidate for thee; 

Makes more than monarchs, makes an honest man. 

Though no exchequer it commands, 'tis wealth; 
JO And though it wears no ribband, 'tis renown ; 

Renown, that would not quit thee, though disgraed, 

Nor leave thee pendant on a masters smile. 

Other ambition nature interdicts ; 

Nature proclaims it most absurd in man, 
15 By pointing at his origin, and end ; 

Milk, and a swathe, at first his whole demand ; 

His whole domain, at last, a turf or stone ; 

To whom, between, a wdrld may seem too small. 

Young. 



Exercise 14. 

Ambition! pow'rful source of good and ill ! \ 

^0 Thy strength in man, like length cf wing in birds, 

When disengag'd from earth, with o-reater ease 

And swifter flight transports us to the skies; 

By toys entangled, or in guilt bemir d, 

It turns a curse ; it is our chain, and scourge, 
25 In this dark dungeon, where confined we lie, 

Close grated by the sordid bars of sense; 

All prospect of eternity shut out; 

And, but for execution, ne'er set free. 

In spite of all the truths the muse has sung, 
30 Ne'er to be prized enough ! enough revolv'd ! 

Are there w r ho wrap the world so close about them, 

They see no farther fhan the clouds? and dance 

On heedless vanity's fantastic toe? 

Till, stumbling at a straw, in their career, 
35 Headlong they plunge, where end both dance and song. 

Are there on earth, — (let me not call them men,) 

Who lodge a soul immortal in their breasts ; 

Unconscious as the mountain of its ore ; 

Or rock, of its inestimable gem ? 
40 When rocks shall melt, and mountains vanish, these 



Ex. 14. 15.J EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 107 

Shall know their treasure ; treasure, then, no more. 

Are there, (still more amazing!) who resist 
The rising thought? Who smother, in its birth, 
The glorious truth ? Who struggle to be brutes? 

5 Who through this bosom-barrier burst their Avay, 
And, with revers'd ambition, strive to sink? 
Who labour downwards, through th' opposing pow'r 
Of instinct, reason, and the world against them, 
To dismal hopes, and shelter in the shock 

10 Of endless night? night darker than the grave's! 
Who fight the proofs of immortality ? 
With horrid zeal, and execrable arts, 
W T ork all their energies, level their black fires, 
To blot from man this attribute divine, 

15 (Than vital blood far dearer to the wise) 

Blasphemers, and rank atheists to themselves ? — Young. 



Exercise 15. 

He ceas'd; and next him Moloch, scepter'd king 
Stood up ; the strongest and fiercest Spirit 
That fought in Heav'n, now fiercer by despair: 

20 His trust was with th' Eternal to be rJeem'd 
Equal in strength, and rather than be less, 
Car'd not to be at all; with that care lost 
Went all his fear: of God, ot Hell, or worse, 
He reck'd not, and these words thereafter spake : 

25 u My sentence is for open war ; of wil^s, 
More unexpert. / boast not ; them let those 
Contrive who need, or when they need, not now; 
For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest, 
Millions that stand in arms, and, longing, wait 

30 The signal to ascend, sit lingering here 

Heav'n's fugitives, and for their dwelling place 
Accept this dark, opprobrious den of shame, 
The prison of his tyranny who reigns 
By our delay? Nd, let us rather choose, 

35 Arm'd with Hell-flames and fury, all at once, 
O'er heav'n's high tow'rs to force resistless way, 
Turning our tortures into horrid arms, 
Against the Torturer ; when, to meet the noise 
Of his almighty engine, he shall hear 

40 Infernal thunder, and for lightning, see 



108 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 15, Id 

Black fire and horror, shot with equal rage 
At.xong his Angels, and his throne itself, 
Mix ; d with Tartarean sulphur, and strange fire, 
His own invented torments. ( ) But perhaps 
5 The way seems difficult and steep, to scale 
With upright wing against a higher foe. 
Let them bethink them, if the sleepy drench 
Of that forgetful lake benumb not still, 
Tnat in our proper motion we ascend 

10 Up to our native seat : descent and fall 
To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, 
When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear, 
Insulting, and pursued us through the deep, 
With what compulsion and laborious flight 

15 We sunk thus low? Th' ascent is easy then. 
Th' event is fear'd ; should we again provoke 
Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find 
To our destruction, if there be in Hell 
Fear to be worse destroy' d. What can be worse 

20 Than to dwell here, driv'n out from bliss, condemn 7 *} 
In this abhorred deep to utter woe : 
Where pain of unextinguishable fire 
Must exercise us without hope of end 
The vassals of his anger, when the scourge 

25 Inexorable, and the torturing hour, 

Calls us to penance? More destroy'd than thus, 
We should be quite abolish'd, and expire. 
What fear we then ? what doubt we to incense 
His utmost ire? which, to the height enragd, 

30 Will either quite consume us, and reduce 
To nothing this essential, (happier far, 
Than miserable, to have eternal being,) 
Or, if our substance be indeed divine, 
And cannot cease to be, we are at worst 

35 On this side nothing: and by proof we feel 
Our pow'r sufficient to disturb his Heaven, 
And with perpetual inroads to alarm, 
Though inaccessible, his fatal throne, 

40 Which if not victory, is yet revenge.' ' Milton. 



Exercise 16. 
I should be much for open war, O peers ! 



Ex. 16, 17.J EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 109 

As not behind in hate, if what was urg'd, 
Main reason to persuade immediate war, 
Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast 
Ominous conjecture on the whole success, — 
5 When he, who most excels in fact of arms, 
In what he counsels, and in what excels, 
Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair, 
And utter dissolution, as the scope 
Of all his aim, after some dire revenge. 

10 First what revenge? The tow'rs of Heav'n are filFa 
With armed watch, that render all access 
Impregnable ; oft on the bord'ring deep 
Encamp their legions, or, with obscure wing, 
Scout far and wide into the realm of night, 

15 Scorning surprise. Or could we break our way 
By force, and at our heels all hell should rise, 
With blackest insurrection, to confound 
Heav'n's purest light, yet our great enemy, 
All incorruptible, would on his throne 

20 Sit unpolluted, and th' ethereal mould, 
Incapable of stain, would soon expel 
Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, 
Victorious. Thus repuls'd our final hope 
Is flat despair: we must exasperate 

25 Th almighty Victor to spend all his rage, 
And that must end us, that must be our cure, 
To be no more : sad cure ; for who would lose, 
Though full of pain, this intellectual being, 
Those thoughts that wander through eternity, 

30 To perish rather, swallow' d up and lost 
In the wide womb of uncreated night, 
Devoid of sense and motion ? and who knows, 
Let this be good, whether our angry foe 
Can give it, or will ever ? how he can 

35 Is doubtful : that he never will is sure. Milton 

Exercise 17. 

Aside the Devil turn'd 



For envy, yet with jealous leer malign 
Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plain'd. 
" Sight hateful, sight tormenting ! thus these two 
40 Imparadis'd in one another's arms, 
The happier Eden, shall enjoy their fill 
10 



110 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. |£x. 17, 18. 

Of bliss on bliss ; while I to Hell am thrust, 
Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, 
(Amongst our other torments not the least,) 

45 Still unfulfilled, with pain of longing pines. 
Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd 
From their own mouths : all is not theirs it seems ; 
One fatal tree there stands of knowledge call'd, 
Forbidden them to taste. Knowledge forbidden ? 

50 Suspicious, reasonless! Why should their Lord 
Envy them that? Can it be sin to know 1 
Can it be death ? and do they only stand 
By ignorance ? is that their happy state, 
The proof of their obedience and their faith ? 

55 O fair foundation laid whereon to build 

Their ruin ! Hence I will excite their minds 
With more desire to know, and to reject 
Envious commands, invented with design 
To keep them low, whom knowledge might exalt 

60 Equal with Gods : aspiring to be such, 

They taste and -die ; what likelier can ensue? 
But first with narrow search I must walk round 
This garden, and no corner leave unspy'd; 
A chance, but chance, may lead where I may meet 

65 Some wand' ring spi'rit of Heav'n, by fountain side, 
Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw 
What further would be learn' d. Live while ye may, 
Yet happy pair; enjoy, till I return, 
Short pleasures for long woes . . are to succeed." 

70 (°) So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, 
But with sly circumspection, and began, 
Through wood, through waste, o'er hill, o'er dale, his 
roam. Milton. 



Exercise 18. 

Page 27. oottora Difference between the common and tht 
intensive inflection, 

I place this here, rather than under inflections, because, intensive 
elide so often stands connected with emphasis. The difficulty to be 
avoided may be seen sufficiently in an example or two. There is 
a general tendency to make the slide of the voice as great in degree, 
when there is little stress, as when there is much ; whereas, in tl e 
former case, the slide should be gentle, and sometimes hardly percep- 
tible. 



Ex. 18, 19.J EXERCISES ON MODULATION. Ill 

Common Slide. 

To play with important truths ; to disturb the repose of 
established tenets; to subtilize objections; and elude proo£ 
is too often the sport of youthful vanity, of which maturer 
experience commonly repents. 

Were the miser's repentance upon the neglect of a good 
bargain; his sorrow for being overreached; his hope of 
improving a sum; and his fear of falling into want; direct- 
ed to their proper objects, they would make so many Chris* 
tian graces and virtues. 

Intensive Slide. 

Consider, I beseech you, what was the part of a faithful 
citizen? of a prudent, an active, and an honest minister? 
Was he not to secure Eubcea, as our defence against all 
attacks by sea ? Was he not to make Beotia our barrier on 
the midland side ? The cities bordering on Peleponessus 
our bulwark on that quarter ? Was he not to attend with due 
precaution to the importation of corn, that this trade might 
be protected, through all its progress, up to our own harbours ? 
Was he not to cover those districts which we commanded, by 
seasonable detachments, as the Proconesus, the Chersonesus, 
and Tenedos ? To exert himself in the assembly for this 
purpose, while with equal zeal he laboured to gain others to 
our interest and alliance, as Bvzantium, Abydus, and Euboea? 
— Was he not to cut off the best, and most important re- 
sources of our enemies, and to supply those in which our 
country was defective 1 — And all this you gained by my 
counsels, and my administration. 



EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 

The reader will be able from the following examples, to choose 
those which are appropriate to rotundity of voice, fulness, loudness^ 
time, rhetorical pause, &c. 

COMPASS OF VOICE. 

Page 56. Exercise 19. 

To assist in cultivating the bottom of the voice, I have selected ex- 
amples of sublime or solemn description, which admit of but little 
inflection ; and some which contain the figure of simile. Where 



12 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 19, 

the mark for low note is inserted, the reader will take pains to keep 
down his voice, and to preserve it in nearly the grave monotone. . 

1. ( ) He bowed the heavens also and came down ; and 
darkness was under his feet. — And he rode upon a cherub, 
and did fly : yea, he did fly upon the wings of the wind. — He 
made darkness his secret place; his pavilion round about 
him were dark waters, and thick clouds of the skies. — At the 
brightness that was before him, his thick clouds passed, hail- 
stones and coals of fire. — The Lord also thundered in the 
heavens, and the Highest gave his voice ; hailstones and coals 
of fire. 

2. ( ) And then shall appear the sign of the Son of Man 
in heaven ; and then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn, 
and they shall see the Son of Man, coming in the clouds 
of heaven, with power and great glory. — And he shall send 
his angels, with a great sound of a trumpet, and they 
shall gather together his elect from the four winds, from one 
end of heaven to the other. 

3. ( ) And the heaven departed as a scroll, when it is 
rolled together ; and every mountain and island were moved 
out of their places. ,2 And the kings of the earth, and the 
great men, and the rich men, and the chief captains, and the 
mighty men, and every bond-man, and every free-man, hid 
ihemselves in the dens and in the rocks of the mountains ; 3 
And said to the mountains and rocks, Fall onus, and hide 
us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and from 
the wrath of the Lamb : — For the great day of his lorath is 
come ; and who shall be able to stand ? 

4. And I saw a great white throne, and him that sat upon 
it, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away ; and 
there was found no place for them. 6 And I saw the dead, 
small and great, stand before God : and the books were opened : 
and another book was opened, which is the book of life : and 
the dead were judged out of those things which were written 
in -he books, according to their works. 6 And the sea gave 
up the dead which were in it ; and death and hell delivered 
up the dead which were in them : and they were judged 
every man according to their works. 

• 
5. 'Tis listening Fear and dumb Amazement all* 
When to the startled eye, the sudden glance 
Appears far south, eruptive through the cloud : 
And folloAving slower, in explosion fast, 



Ex. 19] EXERCISES ON MODULATION 113 

The Thunder raises his tremendous voice. 
At first heard solemn o'er the verge of heaven, 
The tempest growls ; ( ) but as it nearer comes, 
And rolls its awful burthen on the wind ; 
5 The lightnings flash a larger curve, and more 
The noise astounds: till over head a sheet 
Of livid flame discloses wide ; then shuts 
And opens wider; shuts and opens, still 
Expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze. 
10 Follows the loosened aggravated roar, 

Enlarging, deep'ning, mingling peal on peal 
Crush' d horrible, convulsing heaven and earth. 



6. 'Twas then great Marlb' rough's mighty soul was 
prov'd, 

15 That in the shock of charging hosts unmov'd, 
Amidst confusion, horror, and despair, 
Examin'd all the dreadful scenes of war; 
In peaceful thought the field of death survey' d, 
To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid; 

20 Inspir'd repuls'd battalions to engage, 

And taught the doubtful battle where to rage. 
( ) So when an angel, by divine command, 
With rising tempests shakes a guilty land, 
(Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past,) 

25 Calm and serene he drives the furious blast ; 
And pleas'd th' Almighty's orders to perform, 
Rides on the whirlwind, and directs the storm. 



7. Rous' d from his trance, he mounts with eyes 
aghast, 
When o'er the ship, in undulation vast, 
30 A giant surge down rushes from on high, 
And fore and aft dissever'd ruins lie: 

( ) As when, Britannia's empire to maintain, 
Great Hawke descends in thunder on the main, 
Around, the brazen voice of battle roars, 
35 And fatal lightnings blast the hostile shores ; 
Beneath the storm their shatter' d navies groan, 
The trembling deep recoils from zone to zone; 
Thus the torn vessel felt the enormous stroke, 
The beams beneath the thund'ring deluge broke. 
10* 



14 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 19 

8. To whom, in brief, thus Abdiel stern reply' d. 
Reign thou in Hell, thy kingdom ; let me serve 
In Heav'n God ever blest, and his divine 
Behests obey, worthiest to be obey'd; 
5 Yet chains in Hell, not realms expect: meanwhile 
From me, (ret urn' d as erst thou saidst from flight,) 
This greeting on thy impious crest receive. 

( ) So saying, a noble stroke he lifted high, 
Which hung not, but so swift with tempest fell 
10 On the proud crest of Satan, that no sight, 

Nor motion of swift thought, less could his shield, 
Such ruin intercept ; ten paces huge 
He back recoil' d ; the tenth on bended knee 
His massy spear upstay'd ; as if on earth 

15 Winds under ground, or waters forcing way, 
Sidelong had push'd a mountain from his seat. 
Half sunk with all his pines. - 



-Now storming fury rose, 



And clamor such as heard in Heav'n till now 
20 Was never ; arms on armour clashing, bray'd 
Horrible discord, and the maddening wheels 
Of brazen chariots rag'd; dire was the noise 
Of conflict; over head the dismal hiss 
Of fiery darts in flaming vollies flew, 
25 And flying, vaulted either host with fire. 
So under fiery cope together rush'd 
Both battles main, with ruinous assault 
And inextinguishable rage; all Heaven 
Resounded ; and had Earth been then, all Earth 

30 Had to her centre shook. 

-Long time in even scale- 



The battle hung ; till Satan, who that day 
Prodigious pow'r had shown, and met in arms 
No equal, ranging through the dire attack 

35 Of fighting Seraphim confus'd, at length 

Saw where the sword of Michael smote, and fell'd 
Squadrons at once ; with huge two-handed sway, 
Brandish'd aloft, the horrid edge came down 

40 Wide wasting; such destruction to withstand 
He hasted, and oppos'd the rocky orb 
Of tenfold adamant, his ample shield, 
A va3t circumference. At his approach 
The great Archangel from his warlike toil 



Ex. 19.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 115 

Surceas'd, and glad, as hoping here to end 
Intestine war in Heav'n, th' arch-foe subdu'd. 
Now wav'd their fiery swords, and in the air 
Made horrid circles ; two broad suns their shields 
5 Blaz'd opposite, w r hile expectation stood 

In horror ; from each hand with speed retired, 
Where erst was thickest fight, the angelic throng, 
And left large fields, unsafe within the wind 
Of such commotion ; such as, to set forth 
10 Great things by small, if nature's concord broke, 
Among the constellations war were sprung, 
Two planets rushing from aspect malign 
Of fiercest opposition, in mid-sky, 
Should combat, and their jarring spheres confound. 

Milton. 



The following examples are selected as a specimen of those pas- 
sages which are most favourable to the cultivation of a top to tne 
voice. In pronouncing these, the reader should aim to get up his 
voice to the highest note on which he can articulate with freedom 
and distinctness. See remarks, page 57, bottom. If the student 
wishes for more examples of this kind, he is referred to Exercise 5, 
p. 84. 

9. Has a wise and good God furnished us with desires 
which have no correspondent objects, and raised expecta- 
tions in our breasts, with no other view but to disappoint 
them? — Are we to be forever in search of happiness, with- 
out arriving at it, either in this world or the next? — Are 
we formed with a passionate longing for immortality, and 
yet destined to perish, after this short period of existence? — 
Are we prompted to the noblest actions, and supported 
through life, under the severest hardships and most delicate 
temptations, by the hopes of a reward which is visionary and 
chimerical, by the expectation of praises, of Avhich it is 
utterly impossible for us ever to have the least knowledge or 
enjoyment? 

10. (°) " Whence and what art thou, execrable shape* 
That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance 
Thy miscreated front athwart my way 
To yonder gates ? through them I mean to pass, 
5 That be assured, without leave ask'd of thee : 
^JB^tire, or taste thy folly ; and learn by proof, 
Hell-born, not to contend with spi'rits of Heav'n." 



116 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 19,20, 

To whom the goblin full of wrath reply'd ; 
(°) " Art thou that traitor Angel ? art thou he, - 

10 Who first broke peace in Heav'n and faith, till then 
Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms 
Drew after him the third part of Heav'n' s sons, 
Conjur'd against the High' est, for which both thou 
And they, outcast from God, are here condemn' d 

1 5 To waste eternal days in wo and pain ? 

And reckon' st thou thyself with spi'rits of Heaven, 
Hell-doom' d, and breath' st defiance here and scorn, 
Where / reign king, and, to enrage thee more, 
Thy king and lord % Back to thy punishment, 

20 False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings, 
Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue 
Thy ling' ring, or with one stroke of this dart, 
Strange horrors seize thee, and pangs unfelt before."* 

TRANSITION. 

Page 60. Exercise 20. 

The Exercises of the foregoing head were designed to accustom 
the voice to exertion on the extreme notes of its compass, high and 
k.w. The following Exercises under this head are intended to ac- 
t istom the voice to those sudden transitions which sentiment often 
requires, not only as to pitch, but also as to quantity. 

The Power of Eloquence. 

AN ODE. 

1 Heard ye those loud contending waves, 

That shook Cecropia's pillar'd state? 
Saw ye the mighty from their graves 
Look up, and tremble at her fate ? 
Who shall calm the angry storm ? 
Who the mighty task perform, 

And bid the raging tumult cease ? 
See the son of Hermes rise ; 
With syren tongue, and speaking eyes, 
Hush the noise, and soothe to peace ! 

2 Lo ! from the regions of the North, 

The reddening storm of battle pours ; 
Rolls along the trembling earth, 
Fastens on the Olynthian towers. 

* The two preceding are good examples of the intensive, in distinc- 
ti m from the comvion slide. 



Ex. 20.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 117 

3 (°) " Where rests the sword? — where sleep the brave? 
Awake ! Cecropia's ally save 

From the fury of the blast; 
Burst the storm on Phocis' walls 
Rise ! or Greece forever falls. 
L T p I or freedom breathes her last 1 " 

4 ( ) The jarring States, obsequious now, 

View the Patriots hand on high; 
Thunder gathering on his brow, 
Lightning flashing from his eye! 

5 Borne by the tide of words along, 

One voice, one mind, inspire the throng : 

(°°) " To arms ! to arms ! to arms ! " they cry 
" Grasp the shield and draw the sword, 
Lead us to Philippi's lord, 

Let us conquer him — or die /" 

6 ( — ) Ah Eloquence ! thou wast undone ; 

Wast from thy native country driven, 
When Tyranny eclips'd the sun, 
And blotted out the stars of heaven. 

7 When Liberty from Greece withdrew, 
And o'er the Adriatic flew, 

To where the Tiber pours his urn 
She struck the rude Tarpeian rock ; 
Sparks were kindled by the shock — 

Again thy fires began to burn ! 

8 Now, shining forth, thou mad'st compliant 

The Conscript Fathers to thy charms ; 
Rous' d the world-bestriding giant, 
Sinking fast in Slavery's arms ! 

9 I see thee stand by Freedom's fane, 
Pouring the persuasive strain, 

Giving vast conceptions birth: 
Hark! I hear thy thunder's sound, 
Shake the Forum round and round — ■ 

Shake the pillars of the earth! 

10 First-born of Liberty divine! 

Put on Religions bright array; 



18 KXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 2C, 21 

Speak! and the starless grave shall shine 
The portal of eternal day ! 

. 1 Rise, kindling with the orient beam ; 
Let Calvary 1 s hill inspire the theme ! 

Unfold the garments roll'd in blood! 
O touch the soul, touch all her chords, 
With all the omnipotence of words, 

And point the way to heaven — to God. Gary 

Exercise 21. 

Hohenlinden....Descriplio?i of a Battle with Firearm% 

1 ( ) On Linden, when the sun was low, 
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
And dark as winter was the flow 

Of Iser rolling rapidly. 

2 But Linden saw another sight, 

(<) When the drum beat at dead of night, 
Commanding fires of death to light 
The darkness of her scenery. 

3 By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, 
Each warrior drew his battle blade, 
And furious every charger neighed, 

To join the dreadful revelry. 

4 (<) Then shook the hills with thunder riven, 
Then rushed the steeds to battle driven, 

And louder than the bolts of Heaven, 
Far flashed the red artillery. 

5 And redder yet those fires shall glow, 
On Linden's hills of blood- stained snow; 
And darker yet shall be the flow 

Of Iser rolling rapidly. 

6 'Tis morn, — but scarce yon lurid sun 
Can pierce the war clouds, rolling dun, 
While furious Frank and fiery Hun 

Shout in their sulph'rous canopy. 

7 The combat deepens: — (°°) On, ye brave, 
Who rush to glory, or the grave' 



Ex. 21, 22.1 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 119 

Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave ! 
And charge with all thy chivalry ! 

8 ( — ) Ah ! few shall part where many meet ! 
The snow shall be their winding sheet, 
And every turf beneath their feet 

Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. Campbell 



Exercise 22. 

Battle, of Waterloo. 

1 There was a sound of revelry by night, 
And Belgium's capital had gathered then 
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright 

The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men : 
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when 
Music arose with its voluptuous swell, 
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, 
And all went merry as a marriage-bell ; 
( ) But hush ! hark ! •• a deep sound strikes like a ris- 
ing knell ! 

2 Did ye not hear it ? — No ; 'twas but the wind, 
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street : 

(°) On with the dance ! let joy be unconfmed ; 

No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet 

To chase the glowin hours with flying feet — 

( Q ) But, hark ! — That heavy sound breaks in once more, 

As if the clouds its echo would repeat. 

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! 

(°°) Arm ! arm ! it is — it is the cannon's opening roar ! 

3 ( — ) Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, 
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, 
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago 
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness : 
And there were sudden partings, such as press 
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs 
Which ne'er might be repeated — who could guess 
If ever more should meet, those mutual eyes, 

Since upon night so sweet, such awful morn could rise % 

4 (=) And there was mounting, in hot haste ; the steed, 
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, 



J20 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 22, 23. 

When pouring forward with impetuous speed, 
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war, 
And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar ; 
And near, the beat of the alarming drum 
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; 
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb 
Or whispering with white lips — " The foe ! They come ! 
They come !" 

5 ( — ) And Ardennes* waves above them her green leaves, 
Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, 
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, 

Over the un returning brave, — alas ! 

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass, 

Which now beneath them, but above shall grow 

In its next verdure, when the fiery mass 

Of living valour, rolling on the foe, 

And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low, 

6 Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, 
Last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay, 

The midnight brought the signal sound of strife, 

The morn, the marshalling in arms, — the day, 

Battle's magnificently-stern array ! 

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent, 

The earth is covered thick with other clay, 

Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, 

Rider and horse, — friend, foe, — in one red burial blent ! 

Byron. 

Exercise 23. 
Negro's Complaint. 

1 ( — ) Foiced from home and all its pleasures, 

Afric's coast I left forlorn ; 
To increase a stranger's treasures, 

O'er the raging, billows borne. 
Men from England bought and sold me, 

Paid my price in paltry gold ; 
But though slave they have enroll' d me, 

Minds are never to be sold. 

2 Still in thought as free as ever, 

What are England's rights, I ask, 
Me from my delights to sever, 
Me to torture, me to task? 



* Pronounced in two syllables. 



EX. 23.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 

Fleecy locks, and black complexion, 
Cannot forfeit nature's claim ; 

Skins may differ, but affection 

Dwells in white and black the same. 

3 Why did all-creating- nature 

Make the plant for which we toil % 
Sighs must fan it, tears must water, 

Sweat of ours must dress the soil. 
Think, ye masters iron-hearted, 

Lolling at your jovial boards ; 
Think •• how many backs have smarted 

For the sweets your cane affords. 

4 (.£_) Is there, as ye sometimes tell us, 

Is there one who reigns on high? 
Has he bid you buy and sell us, 

Speaking from his throne the sky? 
Ask him, if your knotted scourges, 

Matches, blood-extorting screws, 
Are the means that duty urges 

Agents of his will to use ? 

5 ( ) Hark! — he answers; — w r ild tornadoes. 

Strewing yonder sea with wrecks ; 
Wasting towns, plantations, meadows, 

Are the voice with which he speaks. 
He, foreseeing what vexations 

Afric's sons should undergo, 
Fixed their tyrants' habitations 

Where his whirlwinds answer — no. 

5 By our blood in Afric wasted, 

Ere our necks received the chain ; 
By the miseries that we tasted, 

Crossing in your barks the main; 
By our sufferings since ye brought us 

To the man-degrading mart; 
All, sustained by patience, taught us 

Only by a broken heart ; 

7 * Deem our nation brutes -no longer, 
Till some reason ye shall find 

* Firm voice. 



J 22 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 23, 24 

Worthier of regard, and stronger 

Than the colour of our kind. 
Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings 

Tarnish all your boasted powers, 
Prove that you have human feelings, 

Ere you proudly question ours! Cowper. 



Exercise 24, 

Marco Bozzaris, the Epaminondas of Modern Greece. 

[He fell in an attack upon the Turkish Camp, at Laspi, the site of 
the ancient Plataea, August 20, 1823, and expired in the moment of 
victory. His last words were — " To die for liberty is a pleasure, and 
not a pain."] 

1 At midnight, in his guarded tent, 

The Turk was dreaming of the hour, 
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 

Should tremble at his power ; 
In dreams, through camp and court, he bore 
The trophies of a conqueror ; 

In dreams, his song of triumph heard; 
Then wore his monarch's signet ring, — 
Then press' d that monarch's throne, — a king; 
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 

As Eden's garden bird. 

2 An hour passed on — the Turk awoke ; 

That bright dream was his last ; 
He woke — to hear his sentry's shriek, 
(°) " To arms! they come ! the Greek! the Greek!" 
He woke — to die •• midst flame and smoke, 
And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke, 
And death shots falling thick and fast 
As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; 
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band. 
( 00 ) "Strike — till the last armed foe expires, 
Strike — for your altars and your fires, 
Strike — for the green graves of your sires, 

God — and your native land. 

3 They fought — like brave men, long and well. 

They piled that ground with Moslem slain. 



EX. 24, 25.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 123 

They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, 

Bleeding" at every vein. 

His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile, when rang their proud — " hurrah," 

And the red field was won ; 
Then saw in death his eyelids close, 
Calmly as to a night's repose, 

Like flowers at set of sun. 

4 ( — ) Come to the bridal chamber, Death ! 

Come to the mother, when she feels, 
For the first time, her first-born's breath ; 

Come when the blessed seals, 
Which close the pestilence are broke, 
And crowded cities wail its stroke ; 
Come in consumption's ghastly form, 
The earthquake shock, the ocean storm ; — 
Come when the heart beats high and warm, 

With banquet-song, and dance, and wine, 
And thou art terrible : the tear, 
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, 
And all we know, or dream, or fear 

Of agony, are thine. 

5 But to the hero, when his sword 

Has won the battle for the free, 
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, 
And in its hollow tones are heard 

The thanks of millions yet to be. 
Bozzaris ! with the storied brave 

Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 
Rest thee — there is no prouder grave, 

Even in her own proud clime. 
We tell thy doom without a sigh ; 
For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's — 
One of the few, the immortal names, 

That were not born to die. Halleck 



Exercise 25. 

( ) Now when fair morn orient in Heaven appear' a, 
Up rose the victor Angels, and to arms 



124 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 25 

The matin trumpet sung : in arms they stood 
Of golden panoply, refulgent host, 
5 Soon banded ; others from the dawning hills 

Look'd round, and scouts each coast light armed scour, 
Each quarter, to descry the distant foe, 
Where lodg'd, or whither fled, or if for fight, 
In motion or in halt: him soon they met 

10 Under spread ensigns moving nigh, in slow 
But firm battalion ; back with speediest sail 
Zophiel, of Cherubim the swiftest wing, 
Came fly'ng, and in mia air aloud thus cry'd. 
(°°) * Arm, Warriors, arm for fight — the foe at hand, 

15 Whom fled Ave thought, will save us long pursuit 
This day ; fear not his flight : so thick a cloud 
He comes, and settled in his face I see 
Sad resolution and secure ; let each 
His adamantine coat girt well, — and each 

20 Fit well his helm, — gripe fast his orbed shield, 
Borne ev'n on high ; for this day will pour down, 
If I conjecture ought, no drizzling shower, 
But rattling storm of arrows, barb'd with fire.' 
( ) So warn'd he them, aware themselves, and soon 

25 In order, quit of all impediment ; 

Instant, without disturb, they took alarm, 
And onward move, embattled : when behold, 
Not distant far, with heavy pace the foe 
Approaching, gross and huge, in hollow cube, 

30 Training his devilish engineiy, impal'd 

On every side with shadowing squadrons deep, 
To hide the fraud. At interview both stood 
A while ; but suddenly at head appeared 
Satan, and thus was heard commanding loud. 

35 (°°) ' Vanguard ! — to right and left the front unfold 
That all may see who hate us, how we seek 
Peace and composure, and with open breast 
Stand ready to receive them, if they like 
Our overture, and turn not back perverse.' 

Milton. 



Ex. 26.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 125 

EXPRESSION. 

Page 61. 

The Exercises arranged in this class, belong to the general head of 
the pathetic and delicate. As this has been partly anticipated under 
another head of the Exercises, and as the manner of execution in this 
case depends wholly on emotion, there can be little assistance render- 
ed by a notation. Before reading the pieces in this class, the remarks 
p. 61 and 62 should be reviewed; and the mind should be prepared to 
feel the spirit of each piece, by entering fully into the circumstances 
of the case. 

Exercise 26. 

Genesis xliv. JudaKs speech to Joseph. 

18 * Then Judah came near unto him and said, O my 
lord, let thy servant, I pray thee, speak a word in my lord's 
ears, and let not thine anger burn against thy servant: for 
thou art even as Pharaoh. — 19 My lord asked his servants, 
saying, Have ye a father, or a brother ? — 20 And we said 
unto my lord, We have a father, an old man, and a child of 
his old age, a little one: and his brother is dead, and he 
alone is left of his mother, and his father loveth him. — 21 
And thou saidst unto thy servants, Bring him down unto me, 
that I may set mine eyes upon him. — 22 And we said unto 
my lord, The lad cannot leave his father: for if he should 
leave his father, his father would die. — 23 And thou saidst 
unto thy servants, Except your youngest brother come down 
with you, ye shall see my face no more. — 24 And it came to 
pass, when we came up unto thy servant my father, we told 
him the words of my lord. — 25 And our father said, Go 
again and buy us a little food. — 26 And we said, We cannot 
go down: if our youngest brother be with us, then we will 
go down; for we may not see the man's face, except our 
youngest brother be with us. — 27 And thy servant my fa- 
ther said unto us, Ye know that my wife bear me two sons : 
— 28 And the one went out from me, and 1 said, Surely 
he is torn in pieces; and I saw him not since: — 29 And if 
ye take this also from me, and mischief befall him, ye shall 
bring down my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. ( — ) 
30 Now therefore when I come to thy servant my father, 
and the lad be not with us; (seeing that his life is bound up 
in the lad's life;) — 31 It shall come to pass, when he seeth 

* The reader is again desired to bear in mind, that in extracts from 
the Bible, as well as other books, Italic words denote emphasis. 

ii* 



126 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 26, 27. 

that the lad is not with us, that he will die : and thy servants 
shall bring down the grey hairs of thy servant our father 
with sorrow to the grave. — 32 For thy servant became sure- 
ty for the lad unto my father, saying, if I bring him not unto 
thee, then I shall bear the blame to my father forever. — 33 
Now therefore, I pray thee, let thy servant abide instead of 
the lad, a bond-man to my lord ; and let the lad go up with 
his brethren. — 34 For how shall I go up to my father, and 
the lad be not with me 1 lest peradventure I see the evil that 
shall come on my father. 



Exercise 27. 
Genesis xlv. Joseph disclosing himself. 

1 Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all them 
that stood by him ; and he cried, Cause every man to go 
out from me. And there stood no man with him while Jo- 
seph made himself known unto his brethren. — 2 And he 
wept aloud ; and the Egyptians and the house of Pharaoh 
heard. — 3 And Joseph said unto his brethren, I am Joseph: 
doth my father yet live? — And his brethren could not an- 
swer him, for they were troubled at his presence. — 4 And 
Joseph said unto his brethren, Come near to me I pray you: 
and they came near. And he said I am Joseph, your 
brother, whom ye sold into Egypt. 5 Now therefore be 
not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me 
hither: for God did send meJ)efore you to preserve life. 6 
For these two years hath the famine been in the land : and 
yet there are five years, in the which there shall be neither 
earing nor harvest. 7 And God sent me before you, to pre- 
serve you a posterity in the earth, and to save your lives by 
a. great deliverance. 8 So now it was not you that sent 
me hither but God: and he hath made me a father to Pha- 
raoh, and lord of all his house, and a ruler 'throughout all 
the land of Egypt. 9 Haste ye, and go up to my father, 
and say unto him, Thus saith thy son Joseph, God hath 
made me lord of all Egypt ; come doivn unto me, tarry not. 
10 And thou shalt dwell in the land of Goshen, and thou 
shalt be near unto me, thou, and thy children, and thy chil- 
dren's children, and thy flocks, and thy herds," and all that 
thou hast : 1 1 And there will I nourish thee, (for yet there 
are five years of famine,) lest thou, and thy household, and 
all that thou hast come to poverty. 12 And behold, your 



Ex. 27, 28.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 127 

eyes see, and the eyes of thy brother Benjamin, that it is my 
mouth that speaketh unto you. 13 And ye shall tell my 
father of all my glory in Egypt, and of all that ye have seen; 
and ye shall haste, and bring down my father hither. 14 
And he fell upon his brother Benjamin's neck, and wept ; 
and Benjamin wept upon his neck. 15 Moreover he kissed 
all his brethren, and wept upon them : and after that his 
brethren talked with him. 

25 And they went up out of Egypt, and came into the 
land of Canaan unto Jacob their father, 26 And told him 
saying, Joseph is yet alive ! and he is governor over all 
therland of Egypt. And Jacob's heart fainted, for he be- 
lieved them not. 27 And they told him ail the words of 
Joseph, which he had said unto them : and when he saw 
the waggons which Jcseph had sent to carry him, the spirit 
of Jacob their father revived : 28 And Israel said, It is 
enough ; Joseph my son is yet alive : I will go anr see him 
before I die. 



Exercise 28. 
The death of a friend. 

1 I fain would sing : — but ah ! I strive in vain. 
Sighs from a breaking heart my voice confound. 
With trembling step to join yon weeping train, 

I haste, where gleams funereal glare around, 
And, mix'd with shrieks of wo, the knells of death re- 
sound. 

2 Adieu, ye lays, that Fancy's flowers adorn, 
The soft amusement of the vacant mind ! 

He sleeps in dust, and all the Muses mourn, — 
He, whom each virtue fired, each grace refined, 
Friend, teacher, pattern, darling of mankind ! 
He sleeps in dust. Ah, how shall I pursue 
My theme ! To heart-consuming grief resign' d, 
Here on his recent grave I fix my view, 
And pour my bitter tears. Ye flowery lays, adieu ! 

3 Art thou, my Gregory, forever fled? 
And am I left to unavailing wo ! 

When fortune's storms assail this weary head, 
Where cares long since have shed untimely snow, 



128 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 28, 29. 

Ah, now for comfort whither shall I go ! 
No more thy soothing voice my anguish cheers : 
Thy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow, 
My hopes to cherish, and allay my fears. 
'Tis meet that I should mourn : flow forth afresh my tears. 

Beattie. 



Exercise 29. 

The Burial of Sir John Moore. 

1 ( — )Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 

As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ; 
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
O'er the grave, where our Hero was buried. 

2 We buried him darkly ; at dead of night; 

The sods with our bayonets turning, 
By the struggling moon-beams' misty light, 
And the lantern dimly burning. 

3 No useless coffin enclosed his breast, 

Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him j 
But he lay — like a warrior taking his rest — 
With his martial cloak around him ! 

4 Few and short were the prayers we said, 

And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; 
But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, 
And we bitterly thought of the morrow — 

5 We thought — as we hollowed his narrow bed, 

And smoothed down his lonely pillow — 
How the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, 
And we far away on the billow ! 

6 " Lightly they '11 talk of the spirit that 's gone, 

And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; 
But nothing he '11 reck, if they let him sleep on 
In the grave where a Briton has laid him." 

7 But half of our heavy task was done, 

When the clock toll'd the hour for retiring, 
And we heard the distant and random gun, 
That the foe was suddenly firing — 



Ex. 30, 31.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 129 

8 ( £ ) Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 

From the field of his fame fresh and gory! 
We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, 
But left him — alone with his glory ! Wolfe. 



Exercise 30. 

Eve lamenting the loss of Paradise. 
( — ) " O unexpected stroke, worse than of Death ! 
Must I thus leave thee, Paradise? thus leave 
Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, 
Fit haunt of gods ? where I had hope to spend, 
5 Quiet though sad, the respite of that day 
That must be mortal to us both. O flowers, 
That never will in other climate grow, 
My early visitation, and my last 
At ev'n, which I bred up with tender hand, 

10 From the first opening bud, and gave ye names, 
Who now shall rear you to the sun, or rank 
Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount ? 
Thee lastly, nuptial bow'r, by me adorn' d 
With what to sight or smell was sweet, from thee 

15 How shall I part, and whither wander down 
Into a lower world, to this obscure 
And wild? how shall we breathe in other air 
Less pure, accustom' d to immortal fruits?' 

Exercise 31. 

Soliloquy of Hamlets Uncle. 
( g ) Oh ! my offence is rank, it smells to heaven ; 
It hath the primal, eldest curse upon 't, 
A brother's murder ! — Pray I cannot, 
Though inclination be as sharp as 'twill, 
5 My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent: 
And like a man to double business bound, 
I stand in pause where I shall fii st begin, 
And both neglect. (°) What if this cursed hand 
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood; 
10 Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens 

To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy, 

But to confront the visage of offence? 

And what 's in prayer, but this two-fold force, 



130 EXERCISES ON MODULATION [Ex. 31, 32 

To be forestalled, ere we come to fall, 

15 Or pardon' d being down ?— Then Til look tip ; 
My fault is past. — But oh, what form of prayer 
Can serve my turn % " Forgive me my foul murder \ n 
That cannot be; since I am still possess'd 
Of those effects for which I did the murder, 

20 My crbwn, my own ambition, and my queen. 
May one be pardon' d, and retain the offence ? 
In the corrupted currents of this world, 
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice ; 
And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself 

25 Buys out the law : but 'tis not so above : 
There, is no shuffling : there, the action lies 
In his true nature ; and we ourselves compell'd, 
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, 
To give in evidence. — What then ? — -what rests ? 

30 Try what repentance can : what can it not ? 
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent? 
(°) O wretched state! oh bosom, black as death ! 
Oh limed soul ; that struggling to be free, 
Art more en gag' d I Help, angels ! make assay ! 

35 Bow, stubborn knees ; and, heart, with strings of steel, 
Be soft as sinews of the new born babe I 
All may be well. 



RHETORICAL DIALOGUE. 
Page 62. Exercise 32. 
1. Matt. xiv. — 22 And straightway Jesus constrained 
fcis disciples to get into a ship, and to go before him unto 
the other side, while he sent the multitudes away. 23 And 
when he had sent the multitudes away, he went up into a 
mountain apart to pray : and when the evening was come, 
he was there alone. 24 But the ship was now in the midst 
of the sea, tossed with waves : for the wind was contrary. 
25 And in the fourth watch of the night, Jesus went unto 
khem, walking on the se i. 26 And when the disciples saw 
him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, it is a 
sjpirit ; and they cried out for fear. 27 But straightway 
Jesus spake unto them, saying, Be of good cheer; it is I; 
oe not afraid. 28 And Peter answered him and said, 
Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the wa- 



Ex. 32.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 131 

ter. 29 And he said, Come. And when Peter was come 
down out of the ship, he walked on the water, to go to 
Jesus. 30 But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was 
afraid ; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save 
me. 3 1 And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, 
and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, 
wherefore didst thou doubt 1 32 And when they were 
come into the ship, the wind ceased. 33 Then they that 
were in the ship came and worshipped him, saying, Of a 
truth thou art the Son of God. 



2. Matt. xvii. — 14 And when they were come to the 
multitude, there came to him a certain man kneeling down 
to him, and saying, 15 Lord, have mercy on my son ; foi 
he is a lunatic and sore vexed, for oft-times he falleth into 
the fire, and oft into the water. 16 And I brought him to 
thy disciples, and they could not cure him. 17 Then Je- 
sus answered and said, O faithless and perverse generation, 
how long shall I be with you ? how long shall I suffer you % 
Bring him hither to me. 18 And Jesus rebuked the devil, 
and he departed out of him : and the child was cured from 
that very hour. 19 Then came the disciples to Jesus apart, 
and said, why could not we cast him out ? 20 And Jesus 
said to them, Because of your unbelief: for ve\ily I say unto 
you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustard-seed, ye shall 
say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; 
and it shall remove ; and nothing shall be impossible unto 
you. 



3. Matt, xviii. — Therefore is the kingdom of heaven 
likened unto a certain king, which would take account of 
his servants. 24 And when he had begun to reckon, one 
was brought unto him which owed him ten thousand talents. 
25 But forasmuch as he had not to pay, his lord commanded 
him to be sold, and his wife and children, and all that he 
had, and payment to be made. 26 The servant therefore fell 
down and worshipped him, saying, Lord, have patience with 
me, and I will pay thee all. 27 Then the Lord of that ser- 
vant was moved with compassion, and loosed him, and for- 
gave him the debt. 28 Bui the same servant went out, and 
found one of his fellow-servants, which owed him an hun- 



132 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 32. 

dred pence ; and he laid hands on him, and took him by 
the throat, saying, Pay me that thou owest. 29 And his 
fellow-servant fell down at his feet, and besought him, say- 
ing, Have patience with me, and I will pay thee all. 30 
And he would not: but went and cast him into prison, till 
he should pay the debt. 31 So when his fellow-servants 
saw what was done, they were very sorry, and came and 
told unto their lord all that was done. 32 Then his lord, 
after that he had called him, said unto him, O thou wicked 
servant, I forgave thee all that debt, because thou desirest 
me: 33 Shouldst not thou also have had compassion on thy 
fellow-servant even as I had pity on thee % 



4. Matt. xx. — 25 But Jesus called them unto him, and 
said, Ye know that the princes of the Gentiles exercise do- 
minion over them, and they that are great exercise authority 
upon them. 26 But it shall not be so among you : but 
whosoever will be great among you, let him be your minis- 
ter; 27 And whosoever will be chief among you, let him 
be your servant : 28 Even as the Son of Man came not to 
be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a 
ransom for many. 29 And as they departed from Jericho, 
a great multitude followed him. 

30 And behold, two blind men sitting by the way side, 
when they heard that Jesus passed by, cried out, saying, 
Have mercy on us, O Lord, thou son of David. 31 And 
the multitude rebuked them, because they should hold their 
peace: but they cried the more, saying, Have mercy on us, 
O Lord, thou son of David. 32 And Jesus stood still, 
and called them, and said, What will ye that I shall do unto 
you ? 33 They say unto him, Lord, that our eyes may be 
opened. 34 So Jesus had compassion on them, and touched 
their eyes: and immediately their eyes received sight and 
they followed him. 



5. Matt. xxi. — 23 And when he was come into the 
temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people 
came unto him, as he was teaching, and said, by what 
authority doest thou these things ? and who gave thee 
this authority ? 24 And Jesus answered and said unto 
them, I also will ask you one thing, which if ye tell me, 
I in like wise will tell you by what authority I do these 



Ex. 3£.J EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 13J 

things. 25 The baptism of John, whence was it ? from 
heaven, or of men ? And they reasoned with themselves, 
saying, If we shall say, from heaven ; he will say unto us, 
Why did ye not then believe him? 26 But if we shall say, 
Of men ; we fear the people : for all hold John as a prophet 
27 And they answered Jesus and said, we cannot tell. And 
he said unto them, Neither tell I you by what authority I do 
these things. 

28 But. what think ye ? A certain man had two soriS ; 
and he came to the first, and said, Son, go work to-day in my 
vineyard. 29 He answered and said, I will not ; but after 
ward he repented and went. 30 And he came to the second, 
and said likewise. And he answered, I go, sir ; and went 
not. Whether of them twain did the will of h ; s father? 
They say unto him, The first. Jesus saith m to them, 
Verily I say unto you, That the publicans and ha "lots go 
"into the kingdom of God before you. 



6. Matt. xxv. — 3t When the Son of Man shall come in 
his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall he 
sit upon the throne of his glory : 32 And before him shall 
be gathered all nations ; and he shall separate them one 
from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the 
goats: 33 And he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but 
the goats on the left. 34 Then shall the King say unto 
them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, in- 
herit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of 
the world ; 35 For I was an hungered, and ye gave me 
meat : I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink : I was a stranger ; 
and ye took me in : 36 Naked, and ye clothed me : I was 
sick, and ye visited me : I was in prison, and ye came unto 
me. 37 Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, 
when saw we thee an hungered, and fed thee? or thirsty, 
and gave thee drink ? 38 When saw we thee a stranger, 
and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee? 39 Or 
when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee ? 
50 And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily, I 
say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the 
least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. 41 
Then shall he say also unto them on the left hand, Depart 
from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the 
devil and his angels : 42 For I was an hungered, and ye 

12 



134 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 32 

gave me no meat : I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink . 

43 I was a stranger, and ye took me not \n : naked, and ye 
clothed me not: sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not. 

44 Then shall they also answer him, saying, Lord, when 
saw we thee an hungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, 
or sick, or in prison, and did not minister unto thee ! 45 Then 
shall he answer them, saying, Verily, I say unto you, Inas- 
much as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not 
to me. 46 And these shall go away into everlasting punish- 
ment : but the righteous into life eternal. 



7. Acts xii. — 5 Peter therefore w r as kept in prison : but, 
prayer was made without ceasing of the church unto God 
for him. 6 And when Herod would have brought him 
forth, the same night Peter was sleeping between two sol- 
diers', bound with two chains ; and the keepers before the 
door kept the prison. 7 And behold, the angel of the Lord 
came upon him, and a light shined in the prison; and he 
smote Peter on the side, and raised him up, saying, Arise 
up quickly. And his chains fell off from his hands. 8 And 
the angel said unto him, Gird thyself, and bind on thy san- 
dals ; and so he did. And he saith unto him, Cast thy gar- 
ment about thee, and follow me. 9 And he went out, and 
followed him, and wist not that it was true which was done 
by the angel ; but thought he saw a vision. 10 When they 
were past the first and the second ward, they came unto the 
iron gate that leadeth unto the city; which opened unto 
them of his own accord : and they went out, and passed on 
through one street : and forthwith the angel departed from 
him. 1 1 And when Peter was come to himself, he said, 
Now I know of a surety, that the Lord hath sent his angel, 
and hath delivered me out of the hand of Herod, and from 
all the expectation of the people of the Jews. 12 And 
when he had considered the thing, he came to the house of 
Mary the mother of John, whose surname was Mark ; 
where many were gathered together, praying. 13 And as 
Peter knocked at the door of the gate, a damsel came to 
hearken, named Rhoda. 14 And when she knew Peter's 
voice, she opened not the gate for gladness, but ran in, and 
told how Peter stood before the gate. 15 And they said 
unto her, Thou art mad. But she constantly affirmed that 
it was even so. Then said they, It is his angel. 16 But 



Ex. 32.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 135 

Peter continued knocking. And when they had opened the 
door and saw him, they were astonished. 1 7 But he beck- 
oning unto them with the hand to hold their peace, de- 
clared unto them how the Lord had brought him out of the 
prison. And he said, Go shew these things unto James, and 
to the brethren. And he departed, and went into another 
place. 



EXERCISES, 



PART II. 



The reader will observe that rhetorical notation is but partially ap- 
plied in the following Exercises. 



Exercise 33. 

Character of Columbus. Irving. 

" A peculiar trait in his rich and varied character, re- 
mains to be noticed ; that ardent and enthusiastic im- 
agination, which threw a magnificence over his whole 
style of thinking. Herrera intimates, that he had a tal- 
5 ent for poetry, and some slight traces of it are on record, 
in the book of prpphecies, which he presented to the Cath- 
olic sovereigns. But his poetical temperament is dis- 
cernable throughout all his writings, and in all his ac- 
tions. It spread a golden and glorious world around 

10 him, and tinged everything with its own gorgeous colours. 
It betrayed him into visionary speculations, which sub- 
jected him to the sneers and cavilings of men of cooler 
and safer, but more groveling minds. Such were the 
conjectures formed on the coast of Paria, about the form 

15 of the earth, and the situation of the terrestrial paradise; 
about the mines of Ophir, in Hispaniola, and of the Au- 
rea Chersonesus, in Veragua; and such was the heroic 
scheme of the crusade, for the recovery of the holy sep- 
ulchre. It mingled with his religion, and filled his 

20 mind with solemn and visionary meditations, on mystic 
passages of the scriptures, and the shadowy portents of 
the prophecies. It exalted his office in his eyes, and 
made him conceive himself an agent sent forth upon a 
sublime and awful mission, subject to impulses and su- 

25 pernatural visions from the Deity ; such as the voice he 
imagined spoke to him in comfort, amidst the troubles 



Ex. 33.] EXERCISES. PART II. 137 

of Hispaniola, and in the silence of the night, on the dis- 
astrous coast of Veragua. 

" He was decidedly a visionary, but a visionary of an 
uncommon and successful kind. The manner in which 
5 his ardent imagination and mercurial nature were con- 
trolled by a powerful judgement, and directed by an acute 
sagacity, is the most extraordinary feature in his charac- 
ter. Thus governed, his imagination, instead of wasting 
itself in idle soarings, lent wings to his judgement, and 
bore it away to conclusions at which common minds could 
never have arrived ; nay, which they could not perceive 
when pointed out. 

" To his intellectual vision it was given, to read in the 
signs of the times, and the reveries of past ages, the indi- 

15 cations of an unknown world, as soothsayers were said to 
read predictions in the stars, and to foretell events from the 
visions of the night. ' His soul/ observes a Spanish wri- 
ter, ' was superior to the age in which he lived. For him 
was reserved the great enterprise to plough a sea which 

20 had given rise to so many fables, and to decipher the mys- 
tery of his time.' 

" With all the visionary fervor of his imagination, its 
fondest dreams fell short of the reality. He died in igno- 
rance of the real grandeur of his discovery. Until his 

25 last breath, he entertained the idea, that he had merely 
opened anew way to the old resorts of opulent commerce, 
and had discovered some of the wild regions of the east. 
He supposed Hispaniola to be the ancient Ophir which 
had been visited by the ships of Solomon, and that Cuba 

30 and Terra Firma, were but remote parts of Asia. What 
visions of glory would have broke upon his mind, could 
he have known that he had indeed discovered a new con- 
tinent, equal to the whole of the old world in magnitude, 
and separated by two vast oceans from all the earth hith- 

35 erto known by civilized man ; and how would this mag- 
nanimous spirit have been consoled, amidst the chills of 
age, and cares of penury, the neglect of a fickle public, 
and the injustice of an ungrateful king, could he have 
anticipated the splendid empires which were to spread 

40 over the beautiful world he had discoveed, and the nations 
and tongues and languages which were to fill its lands 
with his renown, and to revere and bless his name to the 
latest posterity ! 

1 12* 



138 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. S4, 35. 

Exercise 34. 

The Victim. — Philadelphia Casket. 

. " Hand me the bowl, ye jovial band," 
He said — u 'twill rouse my mirth ;" 
But conscience seized his trembling hand, 
And dash'd the cup to earth." 

2. He look'd around, he blush'd, helaugh'd, 

He sipp'd the spark' ling wave ; 
In it he read — " who drinks this draught, 
Shall dig a murderer's grave !" 

3. He started up, like one from sleep 

And trembled for his life ; 
He gazed, and saw — his children weep, 
He saw his weeping wife. 

4. In his deep dream he had not felt 

Their agonies ana fears ; 
But now he saw them as they knelt, 
To plead with prayers and tears. 

5. But the foul fiend her hateful spell 

Threw o'er his wildered mind, 
He saw in every hope a hell ; 
He was to reason blind. 

6. He grasp'd the bowl to seek relief ; 

No more his conscience said: 
His bosom friend was sunk in grief, 
His children begged for bread. ♦ 

7. Through haunts of horror and of strife, 

He passed dqwn life's dark tide ; 
He curs'd his beggar'd babes and wife; 
He curs'd his God — and died ! 



Exercise 35. 

Conflagration at Rome of an Amphitheatre. — Croly. 

" Rome was an ocean of flame. Height and depth 
were covered with red surges, that rolled before the blast. 



Ex. 35.] EXERCISES. — PART II. 139 

like an endless tide. — The billows burst up the sides of 
the hills, which they turned into instant volcanoes, ex- 
ploding volumes of smoke and fire; then plunged into 
the depths in a hundred glowing cataracts, then climb- 
5 ed and consumed again. The distant sound of the city 
in her convulsion went to the soul. The air was filled 
with the steady roar of the advancing flame, the crash 
of falling houses, and the hideous outcry of the myriads 
flying through the streets, or surrounded and perishing 

10 in the conflagration.******* ## All was clamor, violent 
struggle, and helpless death. Men and women of the 
highest rank were on foot, trampled by the rabble that 
had then lost all respect of conditions. One dense mass 
of miserable life, irresistible from its weight, crushed 

15 by the narrow streets, and scorched by the flames over 
their heads, rolled through the gates like an endless 

stream of black lava. # # # # # 

u The fire had originally broken oat upon the Pala- 
tine, and hot smokes that wrapped and half blinded us, 

20 hung thick as night upon the wrecks of pavilions and 
palaces; but the dexterity and knowledge of my inexpli- 
cable guide carried us on. It was in vain that I insist- 
ed upon knowing the purpose of this terrible traverse. 
He pressed his hand on his heart in reassurance of his 

25 fidelity, and still spurred on. We now passed under the 
shade of an immense range of lofty buildings, whose 
gloomy and solid strength seemed to bid defiance to 
chance and time. A sudden yell appalled me. A ring 
of fire swept round its summit ; burning cordage, sheets 

30 of canvass, and a shower of all things combustible, flew 
into the air above our heads. An uproar followed, un- 
like all that I had ever heard, a hideous mixture of 
howls, shrieks and groans. The flames rolled down the 
narrow street before us, and made the passage next to 

35 impossible. While we hesitated, a huge fragment of the 
building heaved, as if in an earthquake, and fortunately 
for us fell inwards. The whole scene of terror was 
then open. The great ampitheatre of Statilius Taurus 
had caught fire : the stage, with its inflammable furni- 

40 ture, was intensely blazing below. The flames were 
wheeling up, circle above circle, through the seventy- 
thousand seats that rose from the ground to the roof. I 
stood in unspeakable awe and wonder on the side of this 



140 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 35, 36. 

colossal cavern, this mighty temple of the city of fire. 
At length a descending blast cleared away the smoke 
that covered t&e arena — The cause of tho.se horrid cries 
was now visible. The wild beasts kept for the games 

45 had broken from their dens. — Maddened by affright 
and pain, lions, tigers, panthers, wolves, whole herds of 
the monsters of India and 'Africa, were enclosed in an 
impassible barrier of fire. They bounded, they fought, 
they screamed, they tore ; they ran howling round and 

50 round the circle ; they made desperate leaps upwards 
through the blaze; they were flung back, and fell only 
to fasten their fangs in each other, and, with their parch- 
ing jaws bathed in blood, die raging. I looked anx- 
iously to see whether any human being was involved 

55 in this fearful catastrophe. To my great relief, I could 
see none. The keepers and attendants had obviously 
escaped. As I expressed my gladness, I was startled 
by a loud cry from my guide, the first sound that I had 
heard him utter. He pointed to the opposite side of the 

60 ampitheatre. There indeed sat an object of melancholy 
interest ; a man who had been either unable to escape, 
or had determined to die. Escape was now impossible. 
He sat in desperate calmness on his funeral pile. He 
was a gigantic Ethiopian slave, entirely naked. He 

65 had chosen his place, as if in mockery, on the imperial 
throne ; the fire was above him and around him ; and 
under this tremendous canopy he gazed, without the 
movement of a muscle, on the combat of the wild beasts 
below ; a solitary sovereign, with the whole tremendous 

70 game played for himself, and inaccessible to the power 
of man." 



Exercise 36. 

The African Chief. — Bryant. 

1 Chained in the market place he stood, 

A man of giant frame, 
Amid the gathering multitude 

That shrunk to hear his name, — 
All stern of look and strong of limb, 

His dark eye on the ground — 



Ex. 36.] EXERCISES. PART II. 141 

And silently they gazed on him, 

As on a lion bound. • 

2 Vainly, but well, that chief had fought 

He was a captive now; 
Yet pride, that fortune humbles not, 

Was written on his brow. 
The scars his dark broad bosom wore 

Showed warrior true and brave ; 
A prince among his tribe before, 

He could not be a slave. 

3 Then to his conqueror he spake — 

( ^ ) " My brother is a king ; 
Undo this necklace from my neck, 

And take this bracelet ring. 
And send me where my brother reigns, 

And I will fill thy hands 
With store of ivory from the plains, 

And gold dust from the sands." 

4 (=) " Not for thy ivory nor thy gold 

Will I unbind thy chain ; 
That bloody hand shall never hold 

The battle spear again. 
A price thy nation never gave 

Shall yet be paid for thee ; 
For thou shalt be the Christian's slave, 

In lands beyond the sea." 

5 (..) Then wept the warrior chief, and bade 

To shred his locks away ; 
And, one by one, each heavy braid 

Before the victor lay. 
Thick were the plaited locks, and long, 

And deftly hidden there 
Shone many a wedge of gold, among 

The dark and crisped hair. 

6 (<) " Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold 

Long kept for sorest need; 
Take it — (thou askest sums untold — ) 

And say that I am freed. 
Take it — ( — ) my wife, the long, long day 



142 EXERCISES.— PART II. (Ex. 36, 37, 

Weeps by the cocoa tree, 
And my young children leave their play, 
And ask in vain for me." 

7 " I take thy gold — but I have made 

Thy fetters fast and strong, 
And mean that by the cocoa shade 

Thy wife shall wait thee long." 
Strong was the agony that shook 

The captive's frame to hear, 
And the proud meaning of his look 

Was changed to mortal fear. 

8 His heart was broken — crazed his brain, — 

At once his eye grew wild, 
He struggled fiercely with his chain, 

Whispered, and wept, and smiled ; 
Yet wore not long those fatal bands, 

For once, at shut of day, 
They drew him forth upon the sands, 

The foul hyena's prey. 



Exercise 37. 
Riches ofaPoor Barber. — Edinburgh Paper. 

Conscientious regard to the Sabbath, providentially rewarded. 

In the city of Bath, during the last century, .ived a 
barber, who made a practice of following his ordinary 
occupation on the Lord's day. As he was pursuing his 
morning's employment, he happened to look into some 

5 place of worship, just as the minister was giving out his 
text, " Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy." 
He listened long enough to be convinced that he was 
constantly breaking the laws of God and man, by shav- 
ing and dressing his customers on the Lord's day. He 

10 became uneasy, and went with a heavy heart to his sab- 
bath task. At length he took courage, and opened his 
mind to the minister, who advised him to give up sab- 
bath dressing, and worship God. He replied, beg- 
gary would be the consequence. He had a flourish- 

15 ing trade, but it would almost all be lost. At length, 



Ex. 37.] EXERCISES. PART II. 143 

after maiiy a sleepless night spent in weeping and pray- 
ing, he was determined to cast all his care upon God, as 
the more he reflected the more his duty became apparent. 
He discontinued sabbath dressing, went constantly and 

20 early to the public services of religion, and soon enjoyed 
that satisfaction of mind which is one of the rewards of 
doing our duty, and that peace of God which the world 
can neither give nor take away. The consequences he 
foresaw actually followed. His genteel customers left 

25 him, and he was nicknamed a Puritan or Methodist. He 
was obliged to give up his fashionable shop, and in the 
course of years became so reduced, as to take a cellar un- 
der the old market-house, and shave the common people. 

30 One Saturday evening, between light and dark, a stran- 
ger from one of the coaches, asking for a barber, was 
directed by the ostler, to the cellar opposite. Coming 
in hastily, he requested to be shaved quickly, while they 
changed horses, as he did not like to violate the Sabbath. 

35 This was touching the barber on a tender chord. — He 
burst into tears — asked the stranger to lend him a half- 
penny to buy a candle, as it was not light enough to 
shave him with safety. He did so, revolving in his 
mind the extreme poverty to which the poor man must 

40 be reduced. When shaved, he said, " There must be 
something extraordinary in your history, which I have 
not now time to hear. Here is half a crown for you. 
When I return, I will call and investigate your case. 
What is your name ? " " William Reed," said the as- 

45 tonished barber. " William Reed ! " echoed the stanger : 
" William Reed; by your dialect you are from the west?" 
" Yes, sir ! from Kingston, near Taunton ! " " William 
Reed, from Kingston, near Taunton ! What was your 
father's name ? " " Thomas." " Had he any brother ? " 

50 " Yes, sir ; one after whom I was named ; but he went 
to the Indies, and as we never heard from him we sup- 
posed him to be dead." " Come along, follow me," said 
the stranger, " I am going to see a person who says his 
name is William Reed, of Kingston, near Taunton. 

55 Come and confront him. If you prove to be indeed he 
who you say you are, I have glorious news for you. 
Your uncle is dead, and has left an immense fortune, 
which I will put you in possesion of, when all legal debts 
are removed." 



144 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 37, 38. 

60 They went by the coach — saw the pretended William 
Ree J, and proved him to be an impostor. The stranger, 
who was a pious attorney, was soon legally satisfied of 
the barber's identity, and told him that he had advertised 
him in vain. Providence had now thrown him in his 

65 way, in a most extraordinary manner, and he had much 
pleasure in transferring a great many thousand pounds to 
a worthy man — the rightful heir of the property. Thus 
was man's extremity, God's opportunity. Had the poor 
barber possessed one half-penny, or even had credit for a 

70 candle, he might have remained unknown for years ; but 
he trusted God, who never said, " Seek ye my face in 
vain." 



Exercise 38. 
Burning of the Fame and escape of the Passengers. 

New York Atlas. 

\ 

" We embarked on the 2d inst, and sailed at daylight 
for England, from the E. Indies, with every prospect of 
a quick and comfortable passage. The ship was every 
thing we could wish ; and having closed my charge 
5 here, much to my satisfaction, it was one of the happiest 
days of my life. We were, perhaps, too happy ; for in 
the evening came a sad reverse. Sophia had just gone 
to bed, and I had thrown off half my clothes, when a cry 
of fire ! fire ! — roused us from our calm content, and in 

10 five minutes the whole ship was in flames ! I ran to ex- 
amine whence the flames principally issued, and found 
that the fire had its origin immediately under our cabin. 
(=§=) Down with the boats! — Where is Sophia? Here. 
— The children ? Here. — A rope to the side ! Lower 

15 Lady Raffles. Give her to me, says one. Fll take her, 
says the Captain. Throw the gunpowder overboard. It 
cannot be got at ; it is m the magazine, c*ose to the fire. 
Stand clear of the powder. Skuttle the water casks ! — 
Water ! Water ! — Where's Sir Stamford ? Come into the. 

20 boat ; Nilson ! Nilson ! — come into the boat. Push off; 
push off. Stand clear of the after part of the ship. 

( = ^) All this passed much quicker than I can write it. 
We pushed off, and as we did so, the flames burst out of 
our cabin window, and the whole after part of the ship 



Ex. 38.] EXERCISES. PART II. 145 

was in flames. The masts and sails not taking lire, we 
moved to a distance sufficient to avoid the immediate 
explosion ; but the flames were coming out of the main 
hatchway ; and seeing the rest of the crew, with the 

25 captain, still on board, we pulled back to her under the 
bows, so as to be more distant from the powder. As 
we approached, we perceived that the people on board 
were getting into another boat on the opposite side. She 
pushed off; we hailed her ; have you all on board ? 

30 Yes, all save one. Who is he? Johnson, sick in his 
cot Can we save him ? No, impossible. The flames 
weie issuing from the hatchway. At this moment, the 
poor fellow, scorched, I imagine, by the flames, roared 
out most lustily, having run upon the deck. I will go 

35 for him, says the captain. The two boats then came to- 
gether, and we took out some of the persons from the 
captain's boat, which was overladen. He then pulled 
under the bowsprit of the ship, and picked the poor 
fellow up. Are you all safe? Yes, we have got the 

40 man ; all lives safe. Pull of from the ship. Keep your 
eye on the star, Sir Stamford. There is one scarcely 
visible. 

We then hauled close to each other, and found the cap- 
tain fortunately had a compass, but we had no light except 

45 from the ship. Our distance from Bencoolen, we esti- 
mated to be about fifty miles, in a southwest direction. 
There being no landing place to the southward of Ben- 
coolen, our only chance was to regain that port The 
captain then undertook to lead, and we to follow, in a N. 

50 N. E. course, as well as we could : no chance, no possi- 
bility being left, that we could again approach the ship ; 
for she was now one splendid flame, fore and aft, and aloft, 
her masts and sails in a blaze, and rocking to and fro, 
threatening to fall in an instant. There goes her mizzen 

55 mast ; pull away my boys ; there goes the gunpowder. 
Thank G6d X thank God ! 

You may judge of our situation without further par- 
ticulars. The alarm was given at about twenty minutes 
past eight, and in less than ten minutes she was in flames. 

60 There was not a soul on board at half past eight, and in 
less than ten minutes afterwards she was one grand mass 
of fire. 

My only apprehension was the want of boats to hold 



146 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 38 

the people, as there was not time to have got out the 
long boat, or to make a raft. All we had to rely upon 
were two small quarter-boats, which fortunately were 
lowered without accident ; and in these two, small, open 

65 boats, without a drop of water or grain of food, or a rag 
of covering, except what we happened at the moment 
to have on our backs, we embarked on the ocean, thank- 
ful to God for his mercies ! Poor Sophia, having been 
taken out of her bed > had nothing on but her wrapper ; 

70 neither shoes nor stockings. The children just as taken 
out of bed, whence one had been snatched after the flames 
had attacked it. In short, there was not time for any one 
to think of more than two things. Can the ship be saved % 
— No, Let us save ourselves then. All else was swal- 

75 lowed up in one grand ruin. 

To make the best of our misfortune, we availed our- 
selves of the light from the ship to steer a tolerably good 
course towards the shore. She continued to burn till about 
midnight, when the saltpetre, which she had on board, 

80 took fire, and sent up one of the most splendid and bril- 
liant flames that ever was seen, illuminating the horizon 
in every direction, to an extent not less than fifty miles, 
and casting that kind of blue light over us, which is of 
all others most horrible. She burnt and continued in 

85 flame, in this style, for about an hour or two, when we 
lost sight of the object in clouds of smoke. 

Neither Nilson nor Mr. Bell, our medical friend, who 
had accompanied us, had saved their coats ; but the 
tail of mine, with a pocket handkerchief, served to 

90 keep Sophia's feet warm, and we made breeches for the 
children w r ith our neck cloths. Rain now came on, but 
fortunately it was not of long continuance, and we got 
dry again. The night became serene and star light. 
We w r ere now certain of our course, and the men be- 

95 haved manfully ; they rowed incessantly, and with good 
heart and spirit; and never did poor mortals look out 
more for day light and for land, than we did. Not 
that our sufferings or grounds of complaints were any 
thing to w T hat has often befallen others; but from So- 

100 phia's delicate health, as well as my own, and the stor- 
my nature of our coast, I felt perfectly convinced that 
we were unable to undergo starvation, and exposure to 
sun and w r eather many days ; and aware of the rapidity 



Ex. 38, 39.J EXERCISES. PART II. 147 

of the currents, I feared we might fall to the southward 
of the port. 

At daylight, we recognised the coast, and Rat Island, 
which gave us great spirits ; and though we found our- 

105 selves much to the southward of the port, we considered 
ourselves almost at home. Sophia had gone through the 
night better than could have been expected, and we 
continued to pull on with all our strength. About eight 
or nine, we saw a ship standing to us from the Roads. 

110 They had seen the flames on shore, and sent out ves- 
sels to our relief; and here certainly came a minister 
of Providence in the character of a minister of the Gos- 
pel ; for the first person I recognized was one of the 
missionaries. They gave us a bucket of water, and we 

115 took the captain on board as a pilot. The wind,*how 
ever, was adverse, and we could not reach the shore, 
and took to the ship, where w r e got some refreshment, 
and shelter from the sun. By this time Sophia was 
quite exhausted, fainting continually. About two o'- 

120 clock, we landed safe and sound : and no words of mine 
can do justice to the expressions of feeling, sympathy 
and kindness, by which we were hailed by every one. 
If any proof had been wanting, that my administration 
had been satisfactory here, we had it unequivocally 

125 from all. There was not a dry eye ; and as we drove 
back to our former home, loud was the cry of — " God be 
praised." 



Exercise 39. 

The Hour of Prayer. — Mrs. Hemans. 

1 Child, amidst tire flowers at play, 
While the red light fades away ; 
Mother, with thine earnest eye, 
Ever following silently; 
Father, by the breeze at eve 
Call'd thy harvest work to leave ; — 
Pray ! — Ere yet the dark hours be, 
Lift the heart and bend the knee. 

2 Traveller, in the stranger's land, 
Far from thine own household band ; 



148 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 3'J, 40. 

Mourner, haunted by the tone 
Of a voice from this world gone; 
Captive, in whose narrow cell 
Sunshine hath not leave to dwell, 
Sailor, on the darkening sea, 
Lift the heart, and bend the knee. 

3 Warrior, that from battle won, 
Breathest now at set of sun : 
Woman, o'er the lowly slain, 
Weeping on his burial-plain ; 
Ye that triumph, ye that sigh, 
Kindred by one holy tie ! 
Heaven's first star alike ye see — «■ 
Lift the heart, and bend the knee I 



Exercise 40. 

My Mother's Grave. -^-Anonymous. 

It was thirteen years since my mother's death, when 
after a long absence from my native village, I stood be- 
side the sacred mound beneath which I had seen hei 
buried. Since that mournful period, a great change had 
5 come over me. My childish years had passed away, 
and with them my youthful character. The world wa? 
altered too ; and as I stood at my mother's grave, 1 
could hardly realize that I was the same thoughtless, 
happy creature, whose cheeks she so often kissed in an 

10 excess of tenderness. But the varied events of thirteen 
years had not effaced the remembrance of that mother's 
smile. It seemed as if I had seen her but yesterday — 
as if the blessed sound of' her well remembered voice 
was in my ear. The gay dreams of my infancy and 

15 childhood were brought back so distinctly to my mind, 
that had it not been for one bitter recollection, the tears I 
shed would have been gentle and refreshing. The cir- 
cumstance may seem a trifling one — but the thought of 
it now pains my heart, and I relate it, that those children 

20 who have parents to love them, may learn to value them 
as they ought. 
My mother had been ill a long time, and I had be- 



Ex. 40] EXERCISES. PART II. 149 

come so accustomed to her pale face and weak voice, 
that I was not frightened at them, as children usually 
are. At first, it is true, I sobbed violently ; but when, 
day after day, I returned from school, and found her the 

25 same, I began to believe she would always be spared to 
me : but they told me she would die. 

One day when I had lost my place in the class, and 
done my work wrong side outward, I came home discour- 
aged, and fretful; — I went to my mother's chamber. She 

30 was paler than usual, but she met me with the same af- 
fectionate smile that always welcomed my return. Alas ! 
when I look b c> .ck, through the lapse of thirteen years, 
1 think my heart must have been stone, not to have 
melted by it. She requested me to go down stairs, and 

35 bring her a glass of water ; — I pettishly asked why she 
did not call a domestic to do it. With a look of mild re- 
proach which I shall never forget if I live to be a hundred 
years old, she said 'and will not my daughter bring a 
glass of water, for her poor sick mother?' 

40 I went and brought her the water, but I did not do 
it kindly. Instead of smiling and kissing her, as I wa3 
wont to do, I set the glass down very quickly, and left 
the room. After playing a short time, I went to bed 
^without bidding my mother good night; but when alone 

45 in my room, in darkness and silence, I remembered how 
pale she looked, and how her voice trembled when she 
said, ' Will not my daughter bring a glass of water for 
her poor sick mother ! ' I could n't sleep. I stole into 
her chamber to ask forgiveness. She had sunk into an 

50 easy slumber, and they told me I must not waken her. I 
did not tell any one what troubled me, but stole ba'ek to 
my bed, resolved to rise early in the morning, and tel] 
her how sorry I was for my conduct. 

The sun was shining brightly when I awoke, and hur- 

55 rying on my clothes, I hastened to my mother's cham- 
ber. She was dead ! she never spoke more — never smiled 
upon me again — and when I touched the hand that used 
to rest upon my head in blessing, it was so cold that it 
made me start. I bowed down by her side, and sobbed 

60 in the bitterness of my heart. I thought then I wished I 

might die, and be buried with her ; and old as I now am, 

I would give worlds were they mine to give, could my 

mother but have lived to tell me she forgave my child- 

13* 



15® EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 40, 41. 

ish ingratitude. But I cannot call her back ; and when 
65 I stand by her grave, and whenever I think of her 
manifold kindness, the memory of that reproachful look 
she gave me, will bite like a serpent, and sting like an 
adder. 



Exercise 41. 

A Tale of Waterloo. — Anonymous. 

About the middle of the night I received a visit from a 
young man, with whom I had formed an intimate ac- 
quaintance. He was the. only son of a gentleman of large 
property in the South of Ireland ; but having formed an 
5 attachment to a beautiful girl in humble life, and married 
her against thevrill of his father, he had been disinherited 
and turned out of doors. ***** 

Depressed as I was in spirit myself, I was struck with 
the melancholy tone in which that night he accosted me. 

10 He felt a presentiment, he said, that he would not sur- 
vive the battle of the ensuing day. He wished to bid 
me farewell, and to entrust to my care his portrait, 
which, with his farewell blessing, was all he had to 
bequeath to his wife and child. Absence had renewed, 

15 or rather doubled, all his fondness for the former, and 
portrayed her in all the witching loveliness that had won 
his boyish affection. He talked of her while the tears 
ran down his cheeks, and conjured me, if ever I reach- 
ed England, to find her out, and make known her case 

20 to his father. In vain, while I pledged my word to the 
fulfilment of his wishes, I endeavored to cheer him with 
better hopes. He listened in mournful silence to all I 
could suggest ; flung his arms round my neck ; wrung 
my hand and we parted. I saw him but once again. 

25 It was during the hottest part of the next and terrible 
day, when with a noise that drowned even the roar of 
artillery, Sir William Ponsonby's brigade of cavalry 
dashed past our hollow square, bearing before them in 
that tremendous charge, the flower of Napoleon's chivalry. 

30 Far ahead even of his national regiment, I saw the man- 
ly figure of my friend. It was but for a moment. The 
next instant he was fighting in the centre of the enemy's 
squadron ; and the clouds of smoke, that closed in mas- 



Ex. 41.] Exercises. — part ii. 151 

ses round friend and foe, hid him from my view. When 

35 the battle was over, and all was hushed hut the groans of 
the wounded, and the triumphant shouts and rolling drums 
of the victorious Prussians, who continued the pursuit 
during the entire of the night, I quitted the shattered re- 
mains of the gallant regiment in whose ranks I had that 

10 day the honor of standing. The moon was wading 
through scattered masses of dark and heavy clouds, 
when I commenced my search for my friend. The light 
was doubtful and uncertain ; yet it was easy to keep 
along the track that marked the last career of Ponsonby. 

15 Shuddering, lest in every face I should recognise my 
friend, I passed by, and sometimes trod upon the cold 
and motionless heaps, which now looked so unlike the 
"fiery masses of living valour" that a few hours before, 
had commingled, with a concussion more dreadful than 

50 the earthquake's shock. Although I at first felt a certain 
conviction of his fate, I afterwards began to hope that 
the object of my search had, contrary to his prediction, 
survived the terrible encounter. I was about to retire, 
when a heap of slain, in a ploughed field, on which the 

55 moon was now shining clearly, attracted my notice. 
Literally piled on each other, were the bodies of five 
cuirassiers; and lying beneath his horse was the dead 
body of my friend. You may form some idea of my as- 
tonishment, on finding, by a nearer inspection, that his 

60 head was supported, and his neck entwined, by the arms 
of a female, from whom also the spirit had taken its de- 
parture ; but you can form no conception of the horror 
[ felt at beholding, in this scene of carnage and desola- 
tion, in the very arms of death, and on the bosom of a 

65 corpse, a living infant, sleeping calmly, with the moon- 
beam resting on its lovely features, and a smile playing 
on its lips, as if angels were guarding its slumbers, and 
inspiring its dreams ! And who knows but perhaps they 
were? The conviction now flashed on my mind, that 

70 these were the wife and child of my unfortunate friend; 
and the letters we afterwards found on the person of the 
former, proved that I was right in my conjecture. Driven 
aside by. the gale of pleasure or ambition, or by the 
storms of life, the affections of man may veer ; but un- 

75 changeable and unchanging is a true heart in woman. 
" She loves, and loves forever." This faithful wife had 



152 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 41, 42. 

followed her husband through a land of strangers, and 
over the pathless sea; through the crowded city and the 
bustling camp, till she found him stretched on the battle- 

80 field. Perhaps she came in time to receive his parting 
sigh, and her spirit, quitting its worn-out tenement of 
clay, winged its way with his to Him who gave them 
being. With the assistance of some of my comrades, I 
consigned this hapless pair to the earth, wrapped in the 

85 same military cloak ; and enveloping the infant, this dear 
child of my adoption, in my plaid, I returned to the spot 
where our regiment lay. 



Exercise 42. 

The Righteous never forsaken. — New-York Spectator. 

It was Saturday night, and the widow of the Pine 
Cottage sat by her blazing fagots with her five tattered 
children at her side, endeavouring by listening to the 
artlessness of their prattle, to dissipate the heavy gloom 
5 that pressed upon her mind. For a year, her own feeble 
hands had provided for her helpless family, for she had 
no supporter : she thought of no friend in all the wide, 
unfriendly world around. But that mysterious Provi- 
dence, the wisdom of whose ways are above human com- 

10 prehension, had visited her with wasting sickness, and 
her little means had become exhausted. It was now, too, 
midwinter, and the snow lay heavy and deep through 
all the surrounding forests, while storms still seemed 
gathering in the heavens, and the driving w r ind roared 

1 5 amidst the bounding pines, and rocked her puny man- 
sion. 

The last herring smoked upon the coals before her ; 
it was the only article of food she possessed, and no won- 
der her forlorn, desolate state brought up in her lone bo- 

20 som all the anxieties of a mother, when she looked upon 
her children ; and no wonder, forlorn as she was, if she 
suffered the heart swellings of despair to rise, even though 
she knew that he whose promise is to the widow and to 
the orphan, cannot forget his word. Providence had 

25 many years before taken from her her eldest son, who 
went from his forest home, to try his fortune on the high 
seas, since which she heard no note or tidings of him , 



Ex. 42.] EXERCISES. PART II. 15S 

and in latter time, had, by the hand of death, deprived 
her of the companion and staff of her earthly pilgrimage, 

30 in the person of her husband. Yet to this hour she-had 

been upborne; she had not only been able to provide for 

her little flock, but had never lost an opportunity of 

ministering to the wants of the miserable and destitute. 

The indolent may well bear with poverty, while the 

35 ability to gain sustenance remains. The individual who 
has but his own wants to supply, may suffer with forti- 
tude the winter of want ; his affections are not wounded, 
his heart not wrung. The most desolate in populous 
cities may hope, for charity has not quite closed her 

40 hand and heart, and shut her eyes on misery. But the 
industrious mother of helpless and depending children — 
far from the reach of human charity, has none of these 
to console her. And such an one was the widow of the 
Pine cottage ; but as she bent over the fire, and took 

45 up the last scanty remnant of food, to spread before her 
children, her spirits seemed to brighten up, as by some 
sudden and mysterious impulse, and Cowper's beautiful 
lines came uncalled across her mind — . 

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, 

But trust him for his grace ; 
Behind a frowning Providence 

He hides a smiling face. 

The smoked herring was scarcely laid upon the table, 
when a gentle rap at the door, and loud barking of a 

55 dog, attracted the attention of the family. The children 
flew to open it, and a weary traveller, in tattered gar- 
ments, and apparently indifferent health, entered and 
begged a lodging, and a mouthful of food; said he " it 
is now twenty-four hours since I tasted bread." The 

6C widow's heart bled anew as under a fresh complication 
of distresses; for her sympathies lingered not round her 
fireside. She hesitated not even now; rest and share 
of all she had she proffered to the stranger. "We sha. 
not be forsaken ;" said she, "or suffer deeper for an act 

65 of charity." 

The traveller drew near the board — but when he saw 
the scanty fare, he raised his eyes towards Heaven with 
astonishment — "and is this all your store?" said he — 
" and a share of this do you offer to one you know not? 

70 then never saAV I charity before ! but madam," said he, 



154 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 42, 43, 

continuing, " do you not wrong your children by giving 
a part of your last mouthful to a stranger ?" ** Ah," said 
the poor widow, and the tear drops gushed into her eyes 
as she said it, " I have a boy, a darling son, somewhere 

75 on the face of .the wide world, unless Heaven has taken 
him away, and I only act towards you, as I would that 
others should act towards him. God, who sent manna 
from heaven can provide for us as he did for Israel — 
and how should I this night offend him, if my son should 

80 be a wanderer, destitute as you, and he should have 
provided for him a home, even poor as this — were I to 
turn you unrelieved away." 

The widow ended, and the stranger, springing from 
his seat, clasped her in his arms — "God indeed has 

85 provided your son a home — and has given him wealth 
to reward the goodness of his benefactress — my mother ! 
oh my mother !" 

It was her long lost son; returned to her bosom from 
the Indies. He had chosen that disguise that he might 

90 the more completely surprise his family ; and never was 
surprise more perfect, or followed by a sweeter cup 01 
joy. That humble residence in the forest was exchang- 
ed for one comfortable, and indeed beautiful, in the val- 
ley, and the widow lived long with her dutiful son, in 

95 the enjoyment of worldly plenty, and in the delightful 
employments of virtue, and at this day the passer by is 
pointed to the willow that spreads its branches above her 
grave. 






Exercise 43. 

To Printers. — Fisher Ames. 

It seems as if newspaper wares were made to suit a 
market, as much as any other. The starers, and won- 
derers, and gapers, engross a very large share of the at- 
tention of all the sons of the type. Extraordinary events 

5 multiply upon us surprisingly. Gazettes, it is seriously 
to be feared, will not long allow room to any thing, that 
is not loathsome or shocking. A newspaper is pro- 
nounced to be very lean and destitute of matter, if it con 
tains no account of murders, suicides, prodigies or mon- 

10 strous births. 



Ex. 43.J EXERCISES. PART II. 155 

Some of these tales excite horror, and others disgust : 
yet the fashion reigns, like a tyrant, to relish wonders, 
and almost to relish nothing else. Is this a reasonable 
taste ; or is it monstrous and worthy of ridicule ? Is the 
15 history of Newgate the only one worth reading'? Are 
oddities only to be hunted % Pray tell us, men of ink, 
if our free presses are- to diffuse information, and we, 
the poor ignorant people, can get it no other way than 
by newspapers, what knowledge we are to glean from the 

29 blundering lies, or the tiresome truths about thunder' 
storms, that, strange to tell ! kill oxen or burn barns ? 
The crowing of a hen is supposed to forebode cuck- 
oldom ; and the ticking of a little bug in the wall 
threatens yellow fever. It seems really as if our news- 

25 papers were busy to spread superstition. — Omens, and 
dreams, and prodigies, are recorded, as if they were 
worth minding. One would think our gazettes were 
intended for Roman readers, who were silly enough to 
make account of such things. We ridicule the papists 

30 for their credulity; yet, if all the trumpery of cur papers 
is believed, we have little right to laugh at any set of 
people on earth ; and if it is not believed, why is it 
printed ? 

Surely, extraordinary events have not the best title to 

35 our studious attention. To study nature or man, we 
ought to know things that are in the ordinary course, 
not the unaccountable things that happen out of it. 

This country is said to measure seven hundred millions 
of acres, and it is inhabited by almost six millions of 

40 people. Who can doubt, then, that a great many crimes 
will be committed, and a great many strange things 
will happen every seven years ? There will be thun- 
der showers, that will split tough white oak trees ; and 
hail storms, that will cost some farmers the full amount 

45 of twenty shillings to mend their glass windows ; 
there will be taverns, and boxing matches, and elec- 
tions, and gouging, and drinking, and love, and murder, 
and running in debt, and running away, and suicide. 
Now, if a man supposes eight, or ten, or twenty dozen 

50 of these amusing events will happen in a single year, is 
he not just as wise as another man, who reads fifty col- 
umns of amazing particulars, and of course, knows that 
they have happened ? 



156 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 43, 44. 

This state has almost one hundred thousand dwelling 

55 houbes : it would be strange, if all of them should es- 
cape fire for twelve months. Yet is it very profitable 
for a man to become a deep student of all the accidents, 
by which they are consumed % He should take good 
care of his chimney corner, and put a fender before the 

60 back-log before he goes to bed. Having done this, he 
may let his aunt or grandmother read by day, or meditate 
by night, the terrible newspaper articles of fires. 

Some of the shocking articles in the papers raise sim- 
ple, and very simple, wonder ; some, terror ; and some, 

65 horror and disgust. Now what instruction is there in 
these endless wonders? — Who is the wiser or happier 
for reading the accounts of them % On the contrary, do 
they not shock tender minds, and addle shallow brains ? 
Worse than this happens ; for some eccentric minds are 

70 turned to mischief by such accounts, as they receive of 
troops of incendiaries burning our cities : the spirit of 
imitation is contagious ; and boys are found unaccount- 
ably bent to do as men do. When the man flew from 
the steeple of the North Church fifty years ago, every 

75 unlucky boy thought of nothing but flying from a sign- 
post. 



Exercise 44. 

Washington. — Pierpont. 

[The following original hymn was sung at the celebration on the 
22d of February, il .ne Old South Church, Boston.] 

To thee, beneath whose eye 
Each circling century 

Obedient rolls, 
Oar nation, in its prime, 
Looked with a faith sublime, 
And trusted in " the time 

That tried men's souls — " 

When, from this gate of heaven,* 
People and priest were driven 

* The Old South Church was taken possession of by the British, 
while they held Boston, and converted into barracks for the cavalry, the 
pews being cut up for fuel, or used in constructing stalls for the horses. 



Ex, 44, 45] EXERCISES. FART II. _ 157 

By fire and sword, 
And, where thy saints had prayed, 
The harness' d war-horse neighed, 
And horsemen's trumpets brayed 

in harsh accord. 

Nor was our fathers' trust, 
Thou Mighty. One and Just, 

Then put to shame: 
" Up to the hills" for light, 
Looked they in peril's night, 
And from yon guardian height,* 

Deliverance came. 

There, like an angel form, 
Sent down to still the storm, 

Stood WASHINGTON! 
Clouds broke and roll'd away; 
Foes fled in pale dismay ; 
Wreathed were his brows with bay, 

When war was done. 

God of our sires and sons, 
Let other Washingtons 

Our country bless, 
And, like the brave and wise 
Of by-gone centuries, 
Show that true greatness lies 

In righteousness. 

Exercise 45. 

Miserable case of a Weaver. — Bell's Messenger. 

A very worthy poor weaver applied to his master 
about three weeks since, begging earnestly for work, 
stating that he was in great want, and would thankfully 
do any thing for the means of supporting his existence. 
5 His master assured him he did not want any more goods, 
his stock being very heavy, without any sale, and that 
he could not give out more work to any one. The man 
pressed very much, and at length his master said, 



♦From his position on " Dorchester Heights," that overlook the 
»tiwn, General Washington succeeded in compelling the British forces 
U evacuate Boston. 

14 



158 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 45. 

" Well, Jonathan, if it is absolutely necessary for you 

10 to weave a piece to prevent you from starving, I will 
let you have it, but cannot give you more than Is. for 
it (2s. is the regular price,) for I really do not want 
any more goods made up for a long time to come." 
" Let me have it, master, I beg," said the poor man, 

15 "whatever you pay me for it, pray let me have it." 
The piece was given to him to weave, and at the 
end of two days he brought it home, and on carrying it 
to his master begged of him to give him Is. 6d. for 
it, saying how much he was distressed for money. 
His master paid him the Is. 6d., and the man went 

20 away. The master feeling very uncomfortable about 
the poor man, thinking that the earnestness ( his 
manner must arise from excessive want, dete jined 
on following him home. He went to the cottage of the 
weaver, and found the wife alone in the lower room, 

25 making a little gruel over a poor fire. " Well, Mary," 
said the master, "where is your husband?" "Oh ! 
sir, he is just come in from your house, and being very 
faint and weary, he is just gone to lie down in his bed." 
" I will go up and see him, Mary ;" and immediately 

30 he went to the upper room, where he saw the poor man 
lying on his bed, just in the agonies of death, with his 
mouth open, and his hands clasped; and after a short 
convulsion he expired. The master was very much 
distressed, and came down stairs, hoping to be able to 

35 save the wife, who was in a very emaciated condition; 
she had just poured the gruel into a basin, intending 
to carry it up to her husband. The master said, " Come, 
Mary, take a little yourself first." " No, sir," said she, 
" not a drop will I taste till Jonathan has had some. 

40 Neither of us have had anything within our lips but wa- 
ter for the two days we were weaving your piece ; and 
I thought it best to make a little gruel for us, before we 
took any thing stronger, as it is so long since we tasted 
food ; but, sir, Jonathan shall have it first." The mas- 

45 ter insisted on her taking some herself before she went 
up to her husband, but she positively refused it: at last 
rinding that he could not prevail on her to touch the gruel, 
he was obliged to tell her that her husband was dead. 
The poor woman set down the basin of gruel, sunk on 

50 the floor, and immediately expired. 



Ex. 46.] EXERCISES. PART II. 159 

Exercise 46. 

The Tomb of Washington. — Anonymous. 

Part I. 

We thought to gallop to Mount Vernon, but the 

chance of missing the way, and the tiresomeness of a 

gig, induced us to. take a hackney coach. Accordingly 

we took possession, and ordered it on with all convenient 

5 despatch. But haste was out of the question ; — for never 

was worse road than that to Mount Vernon. Still, in the 

season of foliage, it may be a romantic route. As it 

was, we saw nothing to attract the eye, save a few seats, 

scattered among the hills, and occupying some pictur- 

10 esque eminences. On we went — and yet onward — 
through all variety of riding; hill and vale, meadow and 
woodland, until a sheet of water began to glimmer through 
the dim trees, and announce our approach again to the 
Potomac. In a few moments, a turn in the wild and un- 

15 even road brought us in view of the old mansion-house 
of Washington. We drove to the entrance of the old 
gateway, and alighted in the midst of what appeared to 
be a little village, so numerous and scattered were the 
buildings. About those which we first came upon, there 

20 was an air of dilapidation and neglect that was rather 
unpromising. They were of brick and devoted to the 
lower menial purposes of the place. As we advanced, 
the houses that covered the grounds, had a neater ap- 
pearance ; and when we came in view of the edifice, ol 

25 which all these were the outworks or appendages, we 
were at once struck with the simple beauty of the struct- 
ure, and the quiet and secluded loveliness of its situa- 
tion. The roof is crowned with a little cupola or 
steeple, a common thing upon the old seats of rich pro- 

30 prietors of Virginia, and the building itself is two stories 
in height. The portion nearest the river, and which is 
fronted with a light piazza, 'is an addition which was 
made to the mansion by the general. By this arrange- 
meiit the beauty of the whole must have been much in- 

35 creased. The style of the work, and the painting, have 
the effect of a freestone front: and though there is no- 
thing imposing or grand in the appearance of the house, 
still there is an air of substance and comfort about it, that 
after all is far more satisfying than magnificence. Send- 

40 ing in our cards, by an old servant, we were soon invited 
to enter. Not having letters to Mr. W. the present 



160 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 46. 

proprietor, who is now very ill, we did not expect to see 
any of the family. A servant accordingly, at our re- 
quest, merely accompanied us through the rooms made 

45 interesting by the hallowed associations that came fast 
upon us as we traversed them. In the hall or entry, 
hangs, in a glass case, the key of the Bastile, which 
every body has heard of. It was presented to Wash- 
ington by Lafayette. Under it is a picture of that re- 

50 nowned fortress. This key is by no means formidable 
for its size, being about as large as a bank key, and of 
a shape by no means mysterious enough for a disserta- 
tion. The only curious portion of it, is that grasped by 
the hand in turning. It is solid and of an oval shape, 

55 and appeared to me, for I always love to be curious in 
these matters, to have been broken, on a time, and then 
soldered or brazed again. It proDably had some hard 
wrenches in its day. On the whole it appeared to be a 
very amiable key, and by no means equal to all the turns 

50 it must have seen in the Revolution. 

We were first shown into a small room, which was set 
apart as the study of Washington. Here he was wont to 
transact all his business of State, in his retirement. It 
was hung with pictures and engravings of revolutionary 

65 events ; and among the miniatures was one of himself, 
said to be the best likeness ever taken. Another room 
was shown us, which had nothing remarkable about it, 
and we then passed into a larger one, finished with great 
taste, and containing a portrait of Judge Washington. 

70 A beautiful organ stood in the corner, and the fire place 
was adorned by a mantel of most splendid workmanship, 
in bass-relief. It is of Italian marble, and was presented 
to Washington by Lafayette. This part of our visit was 
soon over. There was little to see in the house, and 

y 5 the portions referred to were all to which we were admit- 
ted. I could not help admiring, however, the neatness 
and air of antiquity together, which distinguished the 
several rooms through which we passed. The/e was 
something, also, fanciful in their arrangement, that was 

BO quite pleasing to my eye, far more so than the mathe- 
matical exactness of modern and more splendid mansions. 
Passing from the house, down a rude and neglected path- 
way, and then over a little broken, but already verdant 
ground, we came to an open space, and found ourselves 

85 standing before the humble tomb of George Washington. 



Ex. 46.] EXERCISES. PART II. 161 

It was a happy moment to visit the spot. There was 
something in the time, fortunate for the feelings. The 
very elements seemed in accordance with the season. 
The day was beautiful — the sunlight was streaming full 
90 upon the trees round about, and glowing with a mellow 
beam upon the grave ; — the place was quiet and imbo- 
somed, and the only sound that we heard, save that of 
our own hearts, was the voice of the wind through the 
pines, or of the waters as they broke upon the shore be- 
95 low us. Who can analyze his feelings as he stands be- 
fore that sepulchre ! Who can tell the story of his asso- 
ciations, or do any justice by his tongue or his pen to the 
emotions which the memories of the past awaken there ! 
The history of a whole country is overpowering him at 

100 once. Its struggles — its darkness — its despair — its vic- 
tory rush upon him. Its gratitude, its glory, and its loss, 
pass before him — and in a few moments he lives through 
an age of interest and wonder. Strange power of human 
mind ! What an intimation does this rapid communion 

105 with the past, and with the spirits of the past, give, at 
once, of their immortality and our own ! But it is vain to 
follow out these feelings here. They would fill volumes. 

Part II. 

There is no inscription upon the tomb. The simple 
words " Washington Family," chiseled in granite, 
surmounts the plain brick work. The masonry was 
originally wretched, and the plaster is now falling from 
5 it. The door k well secured, and of iron. There is a 
total absence of everything like parade or circumstance 
about the resting place of the Hero. He sleeps there 
in the midst of the very simplicities of nature. Laurel 
trees wave over his dust, on every side, and the pilgrim 

10 who goes to stand by his grave, finds no careful enclosure 
to forbid his too near approach. In short, Washington 
rests in an obscurity — just that obscurity which he would 
have chosen, but which seems hardly compatible with 
the vast gratitude and deep reverence of a great country. 

15 As we were standing upon this spot, a couple of spaniels 
came bounding along, and following close, was an old 
servant of the family, and formerly a slave of Washington. 
On examining him, we found he was born on the place, 
and recollected his master, and all he said, with great 

20 distinctness. He was a very aged negro, and quite gray. 
14* 



162 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 46, 47. 

I found there was something to be gathered from this 
ancient of the family — and accordingly, as I stood lean- 
ing upon the broken gate, which swung before the door 

25 of the old tomb, put him in the train, by a few ques- 
tions. " In front of the new grave-place, yonder," said 
he, "lie buried a hundred people of colour." These, 
it seemed, were slaves of the plantation, who from time 
to time had died here. He spoke of the great kindness 

30 of Washington, and his emancipating a hundred of his 
people. " His wife did the same," added he. There 
were now, he said, but about fifteen attached to the es- 
tablishment. Passing from one thing to another without 
much connection, he went on to say, referring to Wash- 

35 ington — " I never see that man laugh to show his teeth — 
he done all his laughing inside" This I thought worth a 
page of description- We then recurred to Lafayette's 
visit in 1825. " We were obliged to tote him all about," 
said he — -by which I understood that the general was so 

40 overcome, that he was literally supported by the arms of 
attendants. I inquired how he appeared at the tomb. 
"He cried like a little infant." "Did he go in?" I 
asked. " O yes — he went in, sir — alone — and he made a 
mighty long talk there — but I don't know what it was 

45 about." All these little things were jewels. I loved to 
hear such simple narrations, from such a source, and it 
was with reluctance I turned away, after gathering a relic 
or two, and followed our old guide up to the house again. 
But we had seen all we could see, and after glancing at 

50 the garden and greenhouse, which appeared in- all the 
coming beauty of spring, and turning one more me- 
lancholy gaze upon the cluster of buildings, which had 
once been improved by the great One who now slept in 
their shadow, we entered our carriage, and rode slowly 

55 away from Mount Vernon. 



Exercise 47. 

Destruction of the Temple of Jerusalem, by fire, under 

Titus. — Millman. 

Part I. 

It was the 10th of August, the day already darkened 

in the Jewish calender by the destruction of the former 

Tempi j, by the King of Babylon : it was almost passed. 

Titus withdrew again into Antonia; intending the next 



Ex. 47.] EXERCISER. FART II. 163 

5 morning to make a general assault. The cpiet summer 
evening came on ; the setting sun shone for the last time 
oh the snow white walls, and glistening pinnacles of the 
Temple roof. Titus had retired to rest ; when suddenly 
a wild and terrible cry was heard, and a man came rush- 

10 ing in, announcing that the temple was on fire. Some of 
the besieged, notwithstanding the repulse in the morning, 
had sallied out to attack the men who Avere busily em- 
ployed in extinguishing the fires about the cloisters. The 
Romans not merely drove them back, but entering the 

15 sacred space with them, forced their way to the temple. 
A soldier, without orders, mounted on the shoulders of 
one of his comrades, threw a blazing brand into a gilded 
small door, on the north side of the chambers, in the outer 
building or porch. The flames sprung up at once. The 

20 Jews uttered one simultaneous shriek and grasped their 
swords with a furious determination of revenging and 
perishing in the ruins of the temple. Titus rushed down 
with the utmost speed; he shouted, he made signs to his 
soldiers to quench the fires ; his voice w r as drowned, and 

25 his signs unnoticed, in the blind confusion. The legiona- 
ries either could not, or would not hear; they rushed on, 
trampling each other down in their furious haste, or 
stumbling over the crumbling ruins perished with the 
enemy. Each exhorted the other, and each hurled his 

30 blazing brand into the inner part of the edifice ; and then 
hurried to the wort of carnage. The unarmed and de- 
fenceless people were slain in thousands ; they lay heaped, 
like sacrifices, round the altar ; the steps of the temple 
ran with streams of blood, which washed down the bo- 

35 dies that lay about. 

Titus found it impossible to check the rage of the sol- 
diery ; he entered with his officers, and surveyed the in- 
terior of the sacred edifice. The splendour filled them 
w T ith wonder ; and as the flames had not yet penetrated 

40 to the holy place, he made a last effort to save it, and 
springing, forth, again exhorted the soldiers to stay the 
progress of the conflagration. The centurion Liberalis 
endeavored to force obedience with his staff of. office; 
but even respect for the Emperor gave way to the furi- 

45 ous animosity against the Jews, to the fierce excitement 
of battle, and to the insatiable hope of plunder. The 
soldiers saw every thing around them radiant with gold, 



164 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 47. 

which s^one chzzlingly in the wild light of the flames j 
they supposed that incalculable treasures were laid up in 
50 the sanctuary. A soldier, unperceived, thrust a lighted 
torch between the hinges of the door ; the whole build- 
ing was in flames in an instant. The blinding smoke 
and fire forced the officers to retreat ; and the noble edi- 
fice was left to its fate. 

Part II. 

It was an appalling spectacle to the Roman — what 
was it to the Jew? The whole summit of the hill, which 
commanded the city, blazed like a volcano. One after 
another the buildings fell in, with a tremendous crash, 
5 and were swallowed up in the fiery abyss. The roofs of 
cedar were like sheets of flame ; the gilded pinnacles 
shone like spikes of red light; the gate towers sent up 
tall columns of flame and smoke. The neighbouring 
hills were lighted up ; and dark groups of people were 

10 seen watching in horrible anxiety the progress of the 
destruction: the walls and heights of the upper city were 
crowded with faces, some pale with the agony of despair, 
others scowling unavailing vengeance. The shouts of 
the Roman soldiery, as they ran to and fro, and the 

15 howlings of the insurgents who were perishing in the 
flames, mingled with the roaring of the conflagration 
and the thundering sound of falling timbers. The echoes 
of the mountains replied, or brought back the shrieks of 
the people on the heights : all along the walls, resounded 

20 screams and wailings ; men, who were expiring with 
famine, rallied their remaining strength to utter a cry of 
anguish and desolation. 

The slaughter within was even more dreadful than 
the spectacle from without. Men and women, old and 

25 young, insurgents and priests, those who fought and 
those who intreated mercy were hewn down in indis- 
criminate carnage. The numbers of the slain exceed- 
ed that of the slayers. The legionaries had to clamber 
over heaps of dead, to carry on the work of extermina- 

30 tion. John, at the head of some of his troops, cut his 
way through, first into the outer court of the temple ; 
afterwards into the upper city. Some of the priests up- 
on the roof wrenched off the gilded spikes, with their 
sockets of lead, and used them as missiles against the 



Ex. 47, 48.] EXERCISES.— PART II. 105 

35 Romans below. Afterwards they tied to a part of the 

wall, about fourteen feet wide: they were summoned to 

surrender ; but two of them, Mair, son of Belgo, and 

Joseph, son of Dalia, plunged headlong into the flames. 

No part escaped the fury of the Romans. The treas- 

40 uries, with all their wealth of money, jewels, and costly 
robes — the plunder which the zealots had laid up — were 
totally destroyed. Nothing remained but a small part of 
the outer cloister, in which 6000 unarmed and defence- 
less people, with women and children, had taken refuge. 

45 These poor wretches, like multitudes of others, had been 
led up to the temple by a false prophet, who had pro- 
claimed that God commanded all the Jews to go up to 
trie temple, where he would display his Almighty power 
to save his.people. The soldiers set fire to the building, 

50 and every soul perished. 



Exercise 48. 
The, Charnel Ship — Charleston Courier, 

The night — the long dark night at last, 

Passed fearfully away. 
'Mid crashing ice, and howling blast, 

They hailed the dawn of day, — 
Which broke to cheer the whaler's crew, 
And w r ide around its gray light threw, 

The storm had ceased — its wrath had rent 

The icy wall assunder — 
And many a piercing glance they sent 

Around in awe and wonder — 
And sailor hearts their rude praise gave, 
To God, that morn, from o'er the wave. 

The breeze blew freshly, and the sun 

Pour'd his full radiance far, 
On heaps of icy fragments won — 

Sad trophies — in the past night's war 
Of winds and waters — and in piles, 
Now drifted by, bright shining Isles. 

Bui low ! — still farther off appears 

A form more dim and dark; 
And anxious eyes, and hopes, and fears, 



166 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 48. 

Its slow, strange progress mark ; 
As it moves tow'rds them by the breeze - 
Borne onward from more Northern Seas. 

5 Near, and more near — and can it be, 

(More vent'rous than their own,) 
A Ship, whose seeming ghost they see, 

Among those icebergs thrown ; 
With broken masts, dismantled all, 
And dark sails, like a funeral pall ? 

6 ( ) " God of the Mariner ! protect 

Her inmates as she moves along, 
Through perils which, ere now, had w r reck'd — 

But that thine arm is strong." 
(°) Ha ! she has struck — she grounds — she stands •• 
Still as if held by giant hands. 

7 " Quick, man the boat /" — away they sprang, 

The stranger ship to aid ; 
And loud their hailing voices rang, 

And rapid speed they made : 
But all in silence, deep, unbroke, 
The vessel stood — none answering spoke. 

8 'Twas fearful — not a sound arose — 

No moving thing was there, 
To interrupt the dread repose 

Which filled each heart with fear; 
On deck they silent stepped, and sought, 
'Till one, a man, their sad sight caught. 

9 He was alone — the damp, chill mould 

Of years hung on his cheek ; 
A pen in his hand had meekly told 

The tale no voice might speak : 
" Seventy days," the record stood, 
" Had they been in the ice, and wanted food." 

10 They took his book, and turned away, 
But soon discovered where 
The wife in her death-sleep, gently lay, 

Near him, in life most dear — 
Who, seated beside his young heart's pride, 
Long years before had calmly died. 



Ex. 48, 49.] EXERCISES. PART II. 107 

11 Oh, wedded love ! how beautiful, 

How pure a thing thou art : 
Whose influence even in death can rule, 

And triumph o'er the heart ; 
Can cheer life's roughest walk, and shed 
A holy light around the dead. 

12 Th^re was a solemn, sacred feeling 

Kindled in every breast ; 
And softly from the cabin stealing, 

They left them to their rest — 
The fair, the young, the constant pair, 
They left them with a blessing there ; 

13 And to their boat returning, each 

With thoughtful brows and haste, 
And o'ercharged hearts, too full for speech, * 

Left 'midst the frozen waste, 
That Charnel Ship, which years before, 
Had sail'd from distant Albion's shore. 

1 4 They left her in the icebergs, where 

Few venture to intrude ; 
A monument of death and fear, 

'Mid Ocean's solitude ! 
And, grateful for their own release, 
Thanked God, and sought their homes in pea:e. 



Exercise 49. 
Life. — A Spanish Poem. — Edinburgh Review. 

1 Oh ! while we eye the rolling tide, 
Down which our flowing minutes glide 

Away so fast ; 
Let us the present hour employ, 
And deem each future dream a joy 

Already past. 

2 Let no vain hope deceive the mind — 
No happier let us hope to find, 

To-morrow than to-day ; 
Our golden dreams of yore were bright, 
Like them the present shall delight — 

Like them decay. 



168 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 49, 50. 

3 Our lives like hasting streams must be, 
That into one ingulfing sea, 

Are doomed to fall — 
The sea of death, whose waves roll on, 
O'er king and kingdom, crown and throne, 

And swallow all. 

4 Alike the river's lordly tide, 
Alike the humble riv'let's glide 

To that sad wave ; 
Death levels poverty and pride, 
And rich and poor sleep side by side 

Within the grave. 

5 Our birth is but a starting place ; 
Life is the running of the race : 

And death the goal ; 
There all those glittering toys are bought, 
That path alone, of all unsought, 

Is found of all. 

6 Say then how poor and little worth 
Are all those glittering toys of earth, 

That lure us here % 
Dreams of a sleep that death must break, 
Alas ! before it bids us wake, 

Ye disappear ! 



Exercise 50. 
Death and the Drunkard,. — Anonymous. 
1 His form was fair, his cheek was health ; 
His word a bond, his purse was wealth j 
With wheat his field was covered o'er, 
Plenty sat smiling at his door. 
His wife the fount of ceaseless joy ; 
How laughed his daughter, played his boy ; 
His library, though large, was read, 
Till half its contents decked his head. 
At morn 'twas health, wealth, pure delight, 
'Twas health, wealth, peace and bliss at night ; 
I wished not to disturb his bliss — 
'Tis gone! but all the fault was his. 



Ex, 50.] EXERCISES.— PART II. 169 

2 The social glass I saw him seize, 
The more with festive wit to please, 
Daily increase his love of cheer — 
Ah, little thought he / was near ! 
Gradual indulgence on him stole, 
Frequent became the midnight bowl. 
I in that bowl the headache placed, 
Which, with the juice, his lips embraced. 
Shame next I mingled with the draught ; 
Indignantly he drank and laughed. 

3 In the bowl's bottom Bankruptcy 

I placed — he drank with tears and glee. 

Remorse did I into it pour ; 

He only sought the bowl the more. 

I mingled next joint torturing pain • 

Little the less did he refrain. 

The dropsy in the cup I mixed ; 

Still to his mouth the cup was fixed. 

My emissaries thus in vain 

I sent the mad wretch to restrain. 

4 On the bowl's bottom then myself.. 
I threw ; the most abhorrent elf 
Of all that mortals hate or dread; 
And thus in horrid whispers said — 
" Successless ministers I've sent, 
Thy hastening ruin to prevent ; 
Their lessons nought — then here am I 
Think not my threatening to defy. 
Swallow this, this thy last 'twill be, 
For with it thou must swallow me" 

5 Haggard his eyes, upright his hair, 
Remorse his lips, his cheeks despair ; 
With shaking hand the bowl he clasp' d, 
My meatless limbs his carcass grasp'd 
And bore it to the churchyard — where 
Thousands, ere I would call, repair. 

6 Death speaks — ah, reader, dost thou hear ? 
Hast thou no lurking cause to fear ? 

Has not o'er thee the sparkling bowl 
15 



-7C EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 50, 51 

Constant, commanding, sly control? 
Betimes reflect, betimes beware — 
Though ruddy, healthful now and fair, 
Before slow reason lose the sway, 
Reform — postponed another day, 
Too soon may mix with common clay. 



Exercise 51. 

The plague in London. — Rothelan. 

In its malignancy, it engrossed the ill of all other mal- 
adies, and made doctors despicable. Of a potency equal 
to death, it possessed itself of all his armouries, and was 
itself the death of every other mortal distemper. The 
5 touch, yea, the very sight of the infected, was deadly ; 
and its signs were so sudden, that families seated in hap- 
piness at their meals have seen the plague spot begin 
to redden, and have wildly scattered themselves forever. 
The cement of society was dissolved by it. Mothers, 

10 when they saw the sign of the infection on the babes at 
their bosom, cast them from them with abhorrence. 
Wild places were sought for shelter ; — some went into 
ships and anchored themselves afar ofT on the waters. 
But the angel that was pouring the vial had a foot on the 

J 5 sea, as well as on the dry land. No place was so wild, 
that the plague did not visit — none so secret that the 
quick-sighted pestilence did not discover, none could fly 
that it did not overtake. 

It was as if Heaven had repented the making of man- 

20 kind, and was shovelling them all into the sepulchre. 
Justice was forgotten, and her courts deserted. The ter- 
rified jailers fled from the felons that were in festers — the 
innocent and the guilty leagued themselves together, and 
kept within their prisons for safety ; — the grass grew in 

25 the market-places ; — the cattle went moaning up and down 
the fields, wondering what had become of their keepers ; 
— the rooks and the ravens came into the towns, and 
built their nests in the mute belfries ; — silence was uni- 
versal, save when some infected wretch was seen clam- 

30 ouring at a window. 

For a time all commerce was in coffins and shrouds; 



Ex. 51.] EXERCISES. PART II. ' 171 

but even that ended. Shrift there was none ; churches 
and chapels were open, but neither priests nor peni- 
tent entered ; all went to the charnel-house. The sex- 

35 ton and the physician were cast into the same deep and 
wide grave : — the testator and his heirs and executors 
were hurled from the same cart into the same hole to- 
gether. Fire became extinguished, as if its element 
too had expired; the seams of the sailorless ships yawn- 

40 ed to the sun. Though doors were open, and coffers 
unwatched, there was no theft ; all offences ceased, and 
no calamity but # the universal wo of the pestilence was 
heard among men. The wells overflowed, and the con- 
duits ran to waste ; the dogs banded themselves together, 

45 having lost their masters, and ran howling over all the 
land ; horses perished of famine in their stalls ; old friends 
but looked at one another when they met, keeping them- 
selves far aloof; creditors claimed no debts, and courtiers 
performed their promises ; little children went wander- 

50 ing up and down, and numbers were seen dead in all 
corners. Nor was it only in England that the plague so 
raged : it travelled over a third part of the whole earth, 
like the shadow of an eclipse, as if some dreadful thing 
had been interposed between the world and the sun- 

55 source of life. 

# * # At that epoch, for a short time, there was 
a silence, and every person in the street, for a moment 
stood still; London was as dumb as a churchyard. Again 
the sound of a bell was heard; for it was that sound, so 

60 long unheard, which arrested the fugitive multitude, 

and caused their silence. At the third toll a universal 

shout arose, as when the herald proclaims the tidings of a 

great battle won, and then there was a second silence. 

The people fell on their knees, and with anthems of 

65 thankfulness rejoiced in the dismal sound of that tolling 
death-bell; for it was a signal of the plague being so 
abated that men might again mourn for their friends, and 
hallow their remains with the solemnities of burial. 



172 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 52. 

Exercise 52. 

BoMle of Borodino. — Anonymous. 

The night passed slowly over the wakeful heads of 
the impatient combatants. The morning- of the 7th of 
September at length broke, and thousands beheld the 
dawn for the last time. — The moment was arrived, when 
5 the dreadful discharge of two thousand cannon was to 
break the silence of expectation, and arouse at once all 
the horrors of war. General as the attack seemed, the 
corps of Prince Bagration had to sustain the accumulat 
ing weight of nearly half the French army; and the de- 

10 termination shown by its cavalry was so desperate, that 
they charged up to the mouth of the Russian guns. — 
Whole regiments of them, both horses and men, were 
swept down by the cannon shot ; and all along the front 
of Bagration's line, arose a breast-work of dead and dy- 

15 ing. Napoleon ordered up fifty additional pieces of ar- 
tillery, and a fresh division of infantry, with several re- 
giments of dragoons. This new force rushed on, over 
the bodies of their fallen countrymen, and did not allow 
themselves to be checked until they reached the para- 

20 pets of the Russian works. Their vigorous onset over- 
turned with fierce slaughter every thing that opposed 
them, and obliged Bagration to fall back nearer to the 
second line of the army. The rage of battle at this crisis 
is not to be described. The thunder of a thousand 

25 pieces of artillery was answered by the discharge of an 
equal number on the part of the Russians.- A veil of 
smoke shut out the combatants from the sun, and left 
them no other light to pursue the work of death than the 
flashes of musketry, which blazed in every direction. 

30 The sabres of 40,000 dragoons met each other, and 
clashed in the horrid gloom ; and the bristling points of 
countless bayonets, bursting through the rolling vapor, 
strewed the earth with heaps of slain. 

Such was the scene for an extent of many wersts, and 

35 the dreadful contest continued without cessation until the 
darkness of the night. — This closed that memorable day, 
and with it terminated the lives of eighty thousand human 
beings. The horses which lay on the ground, from right 
to left, numbered full 25,000. 



Ex. 52, 53.] EXERCISES. PART II. 173 

40 The next day, says Labaume, very early in the morn- 
ing, we returned to the field of battle. — In the space of 
a square le'ague, almost every spot was covered with the 
killed and wounded. — On many places, the bursting of 
the shells had promiscuously heaped together men and 

45 horses. 

But the most horrid spectacle was the interior of the 
ravines; almost all the wounded, who were able to drag 
themselves along, had taken refuge there, to avoid the 
shot. These miserable wretches, heaped one upon an- 

50 other, and almost suffocated with blood, uttering the 
most dreadful groans, and invoking death with piercing 
cries, eagerly besought us to put an end to their tor- 
ments. 



Exercise 53. 

Shipwreck. — Fredericksburg Arena. 

In the winter of 1825 — Lietenant G , of the 

United States Navy, with his beautiful wife (the most 
lovely fema^ my eyes ever beheld) and infant child, 
embarked in a packet at Norfolk, bound to South Caro- 
5 lina. 'Tis true the weather was extremely cold, but as 
the wind was favourable, this mode of getting to their 
friends was not considered more hazardous, than the 
same trip by stages through the swamps and sands of 
the Carolina s. Besides, the vessel in which they sailed 

10 was a well known and popular trader, and had never 
encountered an accident in making her numerous voy- 
ages. For the first day and night after their departure, 
the wind continued fair, and the weather clear ; but on 
the evening of the second day, they being then in sight 

15 of the coast of North Carolina, a severe gale sprung up 
from the northward and westward, and towards mid- 
night, the Captain, judging himself much farther from the 
land than he really was, and dreading the gulf stream, 
hauled in for the coast ; but with the intention, it is 

20 presumed, of laying to, when he supposed himself clear 

of the Gulf. Lieut. G did not approve of the 

Captain's determination to stand in for land, and the 
result proved that his objections were w r ell founded; for 
about four A. M. the vessel grounded. Vain would it be 
15* 



174 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 53. 

25 to attempt a description of the horror which was depict- 
ed in every countenance when the awful shock, occa- 
sioned by the striking of the vessel's bottom, was first 
experienced. The terrors of such a situation can be 
known only to those who have themselves been ship- 

30 wrecked. None others can have a tolerable idea of 
w T hat passed in the minds of the wretched crew, as they 
gazed with vacant horror on the threatening elementr, 
and felt that their frail bark must soon, perhaps the 
next thump, be dashed to pieces, and they left at the 

35 mercy of the billows, with not even a flank between 
themselves and eternity ! First comes the thumping 
of the vessel — next the breaking of the raging surge 
over her sides — then the receding for an instant of the 
waves, causing the vessel to careen on her beam ends — 

40 and lastly, the crashing of the spars and timbers by the 
returning rollers — the w T hole exhibiting a scene of con- 
fusion and horror, of which the most vivid language 
could afford but a cold and faint picture. But awful as 
this is, cheerless as are the shipwrecked sailor's pros- 

45 pects, what are his feelings compared to the agony of a 
fond husband and father, who clasps in a last embrace his 
little world, his beloved wife and child ! 

Although conscious of the hopelessness of his situa- 
tion — ttiat to remain by the vessel was death ! and to 

50 seek the shore, which, now that the day began to dawn, 
had become visible, was scarcely less perilous j still 
every feeling of his noble nature prompted him to action. 
My friend was a seaman, and a brave one : accustomed 
to danger, and quick in seizing upon every means of 

55 rescuing the unfortunate. But now, who were the un- 
fortunate that called upon him for rescue? who were 
they whose screams were heard louder than the roaring 
elements, imploring that aid which no human power 
could afford them 1 His wife and child ! O ! heart- 

60 rending agony! But why attempt to describe what few 
can imagine? The subject is too appalling to admit of 
amplification. In a word, then, the only boat which 
could be got at was manned by too gallant tars. Mrs. 
Q and child, and its nurse, were lifted into it — 

b5 it was the thought of desperation ! The freight was 

already too much. Mr. G saw this, and knew 

that the addition of himself would diminish the chances 



Ex. 53, 54.j EXERCISES.— PART II. 175 

of the boat reaching the shore in safety ; and much a? 
he deplored the necessity — horrible as was the alterna-' 

70 tive — he himself gave the order ; — " Push off, and make 
for the land, my brave lads !" — the last words which 
ever passed his lips ! The order was obeyed ; but ere 
the little boat had proceeded fifty yards, (about half the 
distance to the beach) it was struck on the quarter by a 

75 roller, capsized, and boat, passengers, and all, enveloped 
for a time, in the angry surge ! The wretched husband 
^saw but too distinctly what seemed to be the destruc- 
tion of that all he held dear ! But here, alas, and for- 
ever, were shut out from him all sublunary prospects ! 

80 He fell upon the deck powerless — senseless — a corpse ! 
the victim of a sublime sensibility ! But what became 
of the unhappy wife and child? The answer shall be 

brief; Mrs. G was borne through the breakers 

to the shore, by one of the brave sailors ; the nurse was 

85 thrown upon the beach, with the drowned infant grasped 

in her arms. The nurse survived. Mrs. G was 

taken to a hut senseless — continued delirious many days, 
but finally recovered her senses, and with them a con- 
sciousness of the awful catastrophe which in a moment 

90 made her a childless widow. 



Exercise 54. 

The Bucket. — A Cold- Water So?ig. — Woodworth. 

1 How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood ! 

When fond recollection presents them to view ; 
The orchard, the meadow, the deep tangled wild-wood, 

And every loved spot which my infancy knew; 
The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it, 

The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell ; 
The cot of r/y father, the dairy-house nigh it, 

And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well ; 
The old oaken bucket — the iron-bound bucket — 
The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well. 

2 That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure — 

For often at noon, when returned from the field, 
I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, 
The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. 



176 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 54, 55 

How ardent I seized it with hands that were glowing 1 , 

And quick to the white pebbled bottom it fell ; 
Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, 
And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well ; 
The old oaken bucket — the iron-bound bucket — 
The moss-covered bucket arose from the well. 

3 How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it, 
As poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips ! 
Not a full, blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it, 

Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips. 
And now, far removed from that lov'd situation, 

The tear of regret will intrusively swell, 
As fancy reverts to my father's plantation, 

And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well \ 
The old oaken bucket — the iron-bound bucket — 
The moss-covered bucket, which hangs in the well 



Exercise 55. 

Anecdote of Judge Marshall. — Winchester Republican 
It is not long since a gentleman was travelling in one 
of the counties of Virginia, and about the close of the 
day stopped at a public house, to obtain refreshment and 
spend the night. He had been there but a short time, be- 
5 fore an old man alighted from his gig, with the apparent 
intention of becoming his fellow guest, at the same house. 
As the old man drove up, he observed that both the shafts 
of his gig were broken, and that they were held together 
by withes formed from the bark of a hickory sapling. — 

10 Our traveller observed further, that he was plainly clad, 
that his kneebuckles were loosened and that something 
like negligence pervaded his dress. Conceiving Lim to 
be one of the honest yeomanry of our land, the courte- 
sies of strangers passed between them, and they entered 

15 the tavern. It was about the same time that an addition 
of three or four young gentlemen was made to their num- 
ber — most, if not all of them of the legal profession. 
As soon as they became conveniently accommodated, 
the conversation was turned by one of the latter upon 

20 an eloquent harangue which had that day been displayed 
at the bar. It was replied by the other, that he had 
witnessed the same day, a degree of eloquence, no doubt 



Ex. 55.] EXERCISES. PART II. 177 

equal, but that it was from the pulpit. Something like 
a sarcastic rejoinder was made to the eloquence of the 

25 pulpit; and a warm and able altercation ensued, in 
which the merits of the Christian religion became the 
subject of discussion.- — From six o'clock, until eleven, 
the young champions wielded the sword of argument, 
adducing with ingenuity and ability every thing that 

30 could be said pro and con. During this protracted pe- 
riod, the old gentleman listened witii all the meekness 
and modesty of a child ; as if he was adding new infor- 
mation to the stores of his own mind; or perhaps he 
was observing with philosophic eye the faculties of the 

35 youthful mind, and how new energies are evolved by 
repeated action ; or, perhaps, with patriotic emotion, he 
was reflecting upon the future destinies of his country, 
and on the rising generation upon whom these future 
destinies must devolve ; or, most probably, with a senti 

40 ment of moral and religious feeling, he was collect^ 
ing an argument which, (characteristic of himself) no 
art would be " able to elude, and no force to resist." 
Our traveller remained a spectator, and took no part in 
what was said. 

45 At last, one of the young men, remarking that it was 
impossible to combat with long and established preju- 
dices, wheeled around, and with some familiarity, ex- 
claimed, " Well, my old gentleman, what think you ot 
these things ?" If, said the traveller, a streak of vivid 

50 lightning- had at that moment crossed the room, their 
amazement could not have been greater than it was 
with what followed. The most eloquent and unanswer- 
able appeal was made for nearly an hour, by the old 
gentleman, that lie ever heard or read. So perfect was 

55 his recollection, that every argument urged against the 
Christian religion was met in the order in which it was 
advanced. Hume's sophistry on the subject of miracles, 
was, if possible, more perfectly answered, than it had 
already been done by Campbell. And in the whole 

60 lecture there was so much simplicity and energy, pathos 
and sublimity, that not another word was uttered. An 
attempt to describe it, said the traveller, would be an 
attempt to paint the sunbeams. It was now a matter ol 
curiosity and inquiry, who the old gentleman was. The 

65 traveller concluded that it was the preacher from whom 



178 EXERCISES. rART II. [Ex. 56. 

the pulpit eloquence was heard — but no — it was the 
Chief Justice of the United States. 



Exercise 56. 

The First and Last Ticket. — Manuscript of a Criminal. 

Part I. 

My first ticket was a blank. I was persuaded by a 
friend to buy it, who tempted me by holding up to view 
the glittering prize, and exciting my hopes of obtaining 
. it. I was not disappointed at the result of my purchase, 
5 although a curse involuntarily burst from my lips when 
I first learned it. I hardly thought of drawing a high 
prize ; yet the possibility of being so fortunate kept my 
mind in a constant, burning excitement. I was a young 
man then, and could ill afford to lose the cost of the 

10 ticket. However, I comforted myself with the reflec- 
tion, that experience must be paid for. I also made a 
determination that I would not be so foolish again. I 
kept it unbroken for six months: yet all that time there 
was a whispering in my ear — " try again, you may be 

15 more fortunate ." It was the whispering of my evil gen- 
ius — and I obeyed it. I bought part of a ticket and drew 
five hundred. I had previously to this, being in a good 
situation, and with every prospect of doing well in the 
world, engaged myself to Eliza Berton, a young lady 
20 who had long possessed my affections. She was one 

no, I will not, I cannot speak of her as she 

was. Weil, shortly after my good fortune — I should 
say misfortune — I married her. I was considerably ela- 
ted with my luck, and treated my friends freely. I did 

25 not however buy any tickets at that time, though strong- 
ly urged. One evening, after I had been married some 
months, I went out to visit a friend, intending to return 
in the course of an hour. On the way to my friend's 
house, I passed a lottery office. It was brilliantly light- 

80 ed up, and in the windows were temptingly displayed 
schemes of chance, and invitations to purchase. I had 
not tried my luck since my marriage, and had given up 
buying tickets. As I passed by the window of the of- 
fice my eye caught the following, in illuminated letters 

S5 and figures — " $10,000 prize will be heard from this 



Ex. 56.] EXERCISES. PART II. 179 

night Tickets $5." I hesitated a moment, then walk- 
ed on — * who knows but what I may get it V I 
said to myself. I stopped — turned about — still hesita- 
ting — ' Try again,' I heard, and retracing my steps, I 

40 went into the office. A number of my acquaintances 
were sitting there smoking.— The vender gave me a 
cigar, and after a while asked me if I should not like 
to try my luck in the lottery, which he was expecting 
every moment to hear from; his clerk having gone out 

45 to await the opening of the mail. So saying he hand- 
ed me out a package of quarters, which he prevailed on 
me to take, and pay twenty-five dollars ; the price he sold 
them at. The clerk soon after came in with a list of the 
drawing ; and t left the office that evening, one thou- 

50 sand dollars better off than when I entered. But where 
for % For home % No — for the tavern ; all went for a 
treat. At midnight, I went home to my anxious, sleep- 
less . wife, in a fit of intoxication. This w as her first 
experience. *#*#### 

55 A week went by, and Eliza began to smile again. 
The excitement I was in that night, she admitted as an 
excuse for my conduct. But she tenderly advised me, 
nay, on her knees in the stillness of our chamber, every 
night she implored God to have me in his keeping, — to 

60 preserve me from temptation. I was ashamed of myself; 
and I solemnly swore to abstain altogether from tickets. 
My wife was herself again. Months passed away ; — a 
charge was entrusted to my keeping — a holy charge. I 
was presented with a son. He took his father's name. 

65 TLank God! he will not bear his sorrows — his shame! 
1 was happy as man need be for a year. Business pros- 
pered : — I enjoyed good health, and was blessed with a 
happy home where all was peace. 

Part II. 

I said I was happy — I was at times ; but there was a 
secret thirst within me for riches — and yet I was not ava- 
ricious — nor was I parsimonious. But the desire had 
been awakened — the hope been encouraged, that, by 
5 venturing little, much might be had: and although by 
lottery gambling, yet a burning thought of gain — of gain 
by lotteries — agitated me day and night. In the day 
time, when about my business, the thought that by ven- 



a80 EXERCISES. FART II. [Ex. 56. 

turing a few dollars I might draw enough to make me 

10 independent of labour — to allow me to live at ease, was 
uppermost in my mind ; and every night I received a 
large sum of prize money. — I strove to banish such 
desires from my mind ; but they haunted me like an evil 
spirit. 

15 About eighteen months after taking my oath, a grand 
scheme was advertised to be drawn on a certain day in 
my own town. I felt a strong propensity to try my 
luck again. I was importuned by friends to buy 
tickets — the scheme was so good — the chance of success 

20 was so great ; but I thought of the oath I had taken, and 
was firm in my denial. The day of drawing drew nigh. 
The vender who sold me the prize urged me to take a 
few tickets — I was also urged by others — even in the 
presence of my wife. But I resisted it. She, trusting 

25 me, said not a word — she knew my oath was pledged 
— she knew that I remembered it, — and she had confi- 
dence in my keeping it sacred. She only gave a glance 
of pleasure, it may be triumph, as she heard me refuse 
my friend's invitation. — That night I dreamt that a par 

30 ticular number would be a fortunate one — that I purchas- 
ed it, and it came up the highest prize. When I arose in 
the morning my firmness was a little shaken — it was the 
day of drawing. A friend came into my store in the 
forenoon and showed me a parcel of tickets'; amongst 

35 them I saw the number of my dream ! He offered them 
to me — I forgot myself — I mocked my God — I broke 
my oath ; I did not stay in the house at noon any long- 
er than to hurry through with my dinner. My wife's 
presence was a burden to me ; her happy smile discom- 

40 fitted me, and her cheerful tones went to my heart like a 
reproach. From that day her presence was a curse to 
me ; — not that I loved her less — not that she had chang- 
ed — but how could I stand before her, perjured as I was, 
and she the while not doubting my innocence — how 

45 could I without feeling my unholiness? A thousand times 
that forenoon did I resolve to seek my friend and return 
him the ticket, and so often did I break them. Con- 
science smote heavily. But the prize, thought I, will 
check it. Fool, to think paltry gold would reconcile 

50 an offended God — would buy off punishment ! The 
lottery was drawn that afternoon. That evening I sat 



Ex. 56.] EXERCISES. PART II. 181 

alone with my wife in her room. She was talking of the 
folly of some men, in not being- contented with what they 
possessed, and for being ever on the search for more. 

55 ' How many hearts have been agitated — wound up to the 
highest pitch, this afternoon, in hopes of drawing a prize/ 
said she. What ceuld I do % I was there, and had to 
listen to her, although each word seemed like a burning 
coal at my heart. She continued — 

60 'And how many have spent that, which should have 
gone for bread and clothing for their families — and for 
what? -For a vain hope of obtaining more! for a piece 
of mere coloured paper ! And think you, my husband, 
there has been no vows violated, no oaths broken this 

65 'afternoon % ' I made no answer, and she went on — ' If 
there are any such, and if they have been unfortunate, 
how bitter must be their disappointment, and how doubly 
keen their remorse ! Are you not, David, better pleased 
with yourself this evening for not buying tickets — allow- 

70 ing you had not pledged your oath not to meddle with 
them — than you would have been, had you purchased 
them and made money by it ? ' Thus did th& woman 
talk to me, as though I were as pure and guiltless as her- 
self. She knew not that at the moment her words were 

75 like daggers to my heart — that at every motion of her 

lips my soul writhed in agony; — she knew not that my 

pocket book was crammed with the accursed tickets — 

blank tickets! And when she poured out her soul in 

4 prayer that night, she knew not that he, for whom she 

80 prayed, dared not listen to her words, but stopped his ears. 
So it was. # # # # # 

1 Do, my dear husband stay, at home, one evening 
this week ! You shall read to me, or I will read to you ! 
come, keep me company this evening.' Thus said my 

B5 wife one evening, as she took me affectionately by the 
arm, a tear at the same time filling her eye. Brute that 
I was ! I shook her off repulsively, scarcely deigning 
her a reply as I went out. I was an altered man — my 
innocence had departed from me — I had perjured my- 
self. My oath once broken I still continued to break it. 

90 Not a lottery was drawn but that I had some chance 

in it. Ill luck attended me. Blanks — blanks were my 

portion. Still I kept on. Most of my hours were spent 

in lottery offices. I neglected my business — debts ac- 

16 



182 EXERCISES. PART II [Ex. 56 

95 cumulated — wants came upon me; and I had nothing 
to satisfy them with but a hope — a hope, that at the next 
drawing I should he lucky. As cares increased I went 
to a tavern for relief. Remorse gnawed at my heart 
like a worm. It had drank up all my happiness. When 

100 I first broke my oath I thought gold would still my con- 
science. Gold I had none, so I attempted to ease it by 
strong drink. Rum burnt up my tender feelings — my 
better nature; but it only added to the quenchless fire 
that was raging at my heart. It was not uncommon for 

1 05 me at this stage, to get intoxicated every night. Oft have 
I staggered home to my patient, dying Eliza — for my 
conduct was making sad inroads on a constitution natu- 
rally delicate ; and without a shadow of cause fell to 
abusing her. What insult and misery has not that wo- 

110 man endured! and all brought on by me, her husband, 
her protector ! About this time our child died. I dare 
not think of his death — how it was brought on. The 
poor child might have lived longer — perhaps he might 
— but he complained of being cold sometimes, of want- 

115 ing clothes; and sometimes his cry for bread was vain. 
It was a great shock to my wife ; and her gradual fail- 
ing, day by day sobered me, and made me thoughtful. 
But what had I to do with reflection? The past was 
made up of sharp points, and when I turned to it I was 

120 pierced ! and the future — what could I anticipate? what 
was there in store for me ? So I closed my ears — shut 
my heart to the starving condition of Eliza, and became 
a brute again. * * * ■» 

Part III. 

It was in the evening of a wet, cloudy day, that I sal- 
lied forth from my boarding hovel, to shame and sin, to 
learn the fate of my last ticket. To obtain it, I had to 
dispose of a Bible, which belonged to my late wife — my 
5 dead Eliza — and which was the dying gift of her mo- 
ther. It was the last thing that I held that had belong- 
ed to her. One by one, had I disposed of what little 
effects she left, to gratify my passion for drinking and 
gambling. I had lost all feelings of shame. My wife 
10 had been dead two years. 

The ticket I now had was to seal my fate. I had 
fasted more than one day to obtain means to purchase 



Ex. 56.] EXERCISES.— PART II. 183 

it; I had even stinted my drink for means, so strong 
was my passion for gambling. Well, I went into the 

15 office and called for the prize list. At a glance I saw 
my hopes were frustrated ; and crushing the list con- 
vulsively in my hand, I muttered a deep oath and stalked 
out of the office. That ticket indeed sealed my fate. 
' The world owes me a living, and a living I will have ! ' 

20 I said to myself as I turned away with a despairing 
heart and walked up the street. My mind was suddenly 
made up to a strong purpose. 4 There is money ! J I said 
between my teeth, as I sauntered along meditating some 
desperate deed. I knew not the time of night ; it was 

25 late, however, for the stores were all closed, when a man 
brushed by me. As he passed I saw it was the vender 
of tickets — the man who had sold me the first and last 
ticket !— the man to whom I had paid dollar after dol- 
lar, until all was gone. He had a trunk in his hand, 

30 and was probably going home. ' This man,' thought 
I, 'has received from me even to the last farthing; 
shall not I be justified in compelling him to return a 
part? at least ought he not to be made to give me some- 
thing to relieve my misery — to keep me from starving? ' 

35 Such was my reasoning, as I buttoned my jacket and 
slowly followed him. Before reaching his house, he 
had to pass over a lonely space, where there were no 
houses, and at that time of the night but little passing. 
He had gone over half this space, when I stepped 

40 quickly and warily behind him ; and grasp : ng with one 
hand his collar and with the other his trunk, in a gruff 
voice demanded his money. The words were barely 
uttered before I was grappled by the throat. He was a 
strong man, and he had a dangerous hold. I put forth 

45 all my strength to shake off his grasp, striking him at 
the same time in the face and breast, but without avail — - 
he still kept his hold. Finding that something decisive 
must be done, for I could with difficulty breathe, I 
clasped him round the middle, and giving him a sud- 

50 den jerk we both fell to the ground. I fell underneath 
and he had me in his power. I struggled in vain to 
free myself. He still held me by the throat, and he be- 
gan to cry for assistance. — What was to be done ? I had 
a jack knife in my pocket — there was no time for reflec- 

55 lion— my left hand was free— it was the work of a mo- 



184 EXERCISES. PART II. Ex. 56, 57 

ment — the hot blood spirted from his heart full in my face. 
His hold relaxed, and giving a terrible groan he roiled 
on the ground in agony. I sprang upon my feet and 
snatched the trunk; as I moved away in the darkness, 

60 the death rattle in the throat of my victim came fearfully 
upon my ears. 

What followed until T found myself chained in this 
dungeon I know not. I have a faint recollection of fly- 
ing from the spot where lay the dying man ; of being 

65 aroused in the morning by the officers of justice; — of t 
court room, where were displayed the trunk found in my 
possession, and a knife taken from the breast of the corpse 
with my name on the handle. I have a more distinct 
recollection of an after trial and of a condemnation; and 

70 to-morrow the jailer tells me I am to die — to be publicly 
executed. I acknowledge the justice of my punishment 
— I deserve death ; and may God show mercy to him 
who showed no mercy! 



Exercise 57. 
Death at the Toilet. — Diary of a Physician. 
" Why what in the world can Charlotte be doing all 
this while ? " inquired her mother. She listened — " I 
have not heard* her moving for the last three quarters of 
an hour ! I'll call the maid and ask." She rung the 
5 bell, and the servant appeared. 

" Betty, Miss J is not gone yet, is she ? " " Go 

up to her room, Betty, and see if she wants any thing, 

and tell her it's half past nine o'clock," said Mrs. J . 

The servant accordingly went up stairs, and knocked at 

10 the r^droom door, once, twice, thrice, but received no 

answer. There was a dead silence, except when the 

wind shook the window. Could Miss J have fallen 

asleep ? Oh ! impossible ! She knocked again, but un- 
successfully as before. She became a little flustered ; and 
t5 after a moment's pause opened the door and entered. 

There was Miss J sitting at the glass. " Why 

ma'am ! " commenced Betty in a petulant tone, walking 
up to her, "here have I been knocking for these five 

minutes, and" Betty staggered, horror struck to the 

iO bed, and uttering aloud shriek, alarmed Mrs. J , who 

instantly tottered up stairs, almost palsied with fright 
Miss J was dead ! 



Ex 57.] EXERCISES. PART II. 185 

I was there within a few minutes, for my house was 
not more than two streets distant. It was a stormy 

25 night in March : and the desolate aspect of things with- 
out — deserted streets — the dreary howling of the wind; 
and the' incessant pattering of the rain^— contributed to 
casta gloom over my mind, when connected with the 
intelligence of the awful event that had summoned me 

30 out, which was deepened into horror by the spectacle I 
was doomed to witness. On reaching the house, I 

found Mrs. J in violent hysterics, surrounded by 

several of her neighbors who had been called to her as- 
sistance. I repaired to the scene of death, and beheld 

35 what I never shall forget. The room was occupied by 
a white-curtained bed. There was but one window, 
and before it was a table, on w T hich stood a looking 
glass, hung with a little white drapery ; and various 
paraphernalia of the toilet lay scattered about — pins, 

40 broaches, curling-papers, ribbands, gloves, &c. An arm 

chair was drawn to this table, and in it sat Miss J 

stone dead. Her head rested upon her right hand, her 
elbow supported by the table; while her left hung down 
by her side, grasping a pair of curling irons. — Each of 

45 her wrists was encircled by a showy gilt bracelet. She 
was dressed in a white muslin frock, with a little bor- 
dering of blonde. Her face was turned towards the 
glass, which by the light of the expiring candle, reflect- 
ed with frightful fidelity the clammy, fixed features, 

50 daubed with rouge and carmine — the fallen lower jaw — 
and the eyes directed full into the glass, with a cold 
stare, that was appalling. On examining the counte- 
nance more narrowly, I thought I detected the traces ot 
a smirk of conceit and self complacency, which not even 

55 the palsying touch of death could wholly obliterate. 
The hair of the corpse, all smooth and glossy, was curl- 
ed with elaborate precision; and the skinny sallow 
neck was encircled with a string of glistening pearls. 
The ghastly visage of death thus leering through the 

60 tinselry of fashion — the " vain show" of artificial joy — 
was a horrible mockery of the fooleries of life! 

Indeed it was a most humiliating and shocking spec- 
tacle. Poor creature ! struck dead in the very act of 
sacrificing at the shrine of female vanity ! 

65 On examination of the body, we found that death had 

16* 



186 EXERCISES. FART II. [Ex. 57, 58. 

been occasioned by disease of the heart. Her life might 
have been protracted, possibly for years, had she but 
taken my advice, and that of her mother. I have seen 
many hundreds of corpses, as well in the calm compo- 
70 sure of natural death, as mangled and distorted by vio 
lence ; but never have I seen so startling a satire upon 
human vanity, so repulsive, unsightly, and loathsome a 
spectacle, as a corpse dressed for a ball ! 



Exercises 58. 

Sabbath Schools. — Frelinghuysen. 

We have witnessed, with grateful interest, the progress 
of Sabbath school instruction. Every year has furnished 
some fresh proofs of its substantial benefits. Take a 
single illustration in your city ; a recent investigation 
5 ascertained that of twelve thousand children who had shar- 
ed in the blessings of this institution, not one had ever 
been arraigned for crime. This is a volume of com- 
mendation ; but, sir, it is only the beginning of good. 
The next age will witness some of the fulness of its mer- 

10 cies, when these children shall take our places, and as- 
sume upon them the duties of men and citizens. 

I hasten to the appropriate business of this evening. 
A noble impulse has been given to this sacred cause in 
a neighboring city ; it has reached the friends of truth 

15 and awakened a, kindred spirit here. The moral condi- 
tion and prospects of the West — the influence which it 
will very soon exert in the public councils of our coun- 
try, and its own distinct claims, as an important part of 
ourselves, combined a weight of interest in its behalf, 

20 that has attracted general concern and distinguished 
liberality. I advert to the share, that will soon be 
taken by the valley of the Mississippi, in our national 
concerns. Sir, the children will after a few more year,s, 
give the law to the mother. This infant West, is fast 

25 attaining to a giant's dimensions ; and its power will be 
tremendous, unless controlled by principle. Washing- 
ton, who had studied the human character under many 
diversities, came to the full conviction, that no princi- 
ple could be safely trusted, which did not flow from a 

30 sense of religious obligation; and an infinitely greater 



Ex, 58.] EXERCISES. PART II. 187 

than Washington had ages before proclaimed the same 
truth. In this valley of the West, upwards of four mil- 
lions of freemen, have with astonishing rapidity peopled 
the fairest regions of our republic ; and the eventful 

35 question to be resolved is, how we shall most happily 
fashion the elements of these rising communities : whether 
by our benignant regards, they shall aid to strengthen 
the cords of our union, whether they shall cherish the 
principles of private and public virtue, or whether 

40 by our neglect, they shall be left to exhibit the melan- 
choly spectacle of universal degeneracy of manners, 
among a people, but yesterday born into political exist- 
ence. Sir, this is the true, honest question. We can- 
not and we ought not to evade it. It is put to us as 

45 Christians and as American citizens. These sister states 
of the West possess capacities for good or e*dl, that can- 
not be trifled with or disregarded. Rightly influenced, 
immense blessings will reward our philanthropy — but 
should we suffer them to grown on, with no moral cul- 

50 ture, floods of wickedness will by and by come over upon 
us, that will sweep away the last vestiges of hope and 
freedom. I lately heard from a distinguished citizen of 
that section of the Union, the evil, and the antidote in one 
short sentence. While deploring the frequent occurrence 

55 of street murders — sometimes by men high in official 
stations, he remarked, that the terrors of law interposed 
no check, and that his hope rested in the reformation 
of public sentiment : there, said he, the mischief 
receives its countenance and there we must look for its 

60 corrective. This was the language of truth and sober- 
ness. When the late movement in Philadelphia, was 
announced, it was hailed as the harbinger of incalculable 
blessings. A fountain was to be opened, whose health- 
ful streams would send forth richer benefits to the valleys 

65 of the Mississippi, than all their majestic rivers. The 
Sunday schools will reform that perverted public opinion, 
that sanctions the deeds of the transgressor. They will 
purify the elements of society ; they will arrest the 
torrent of corruption ; erect the standards of sound 

""O principles, and, by the blessing of heaven, save the 
country, and perpetuate her liberties. A cause, thus 
exalted in its aims, this evening addresses itself to 
the philanthropy of a generous people. It becomes 



188 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 58, 59. 

not a stranger to press this suit. It befits the occasion, 

75 however, to say of it, that a nobler charity could not well 
engage our sympathies. To raise an empire of immor- 
tal beings to the dignity of virtuous freemen ; to send 
forth moral influences among them, that shall establish 
the basis of political prosperity ; that shall raise a protec- 

80 tion around the sacred privileges of the fireside, and se- 
cure the hearth and the altar from rude invasion. And 
more than this — to open to them the pathway to a bless- 
ed immortality, to fill up time with social comforts, to 
gild its close with consolation, and crown the whole with 

85 imperishable happiness. Sir, what are earthly sceptres 
— what is human wealth and greatness, compared with 
such a vision % And in the just hope that it may short- 
ly be realized, w T ho can longer grasp his gold ? Where 
or how can wealth accomplish for us, more substantial 

90 or sublime pleasures. Patriotism in its boldest concep- 
tions, cannot aspire to a purer bliss than this — To ele- 
vate an extensive region of enterprising men, to secure 
them from the wasteful influence of irreligion and crime ; 
and bring up millions of our fellow men, to the purity of 

95 a virtuous community. Sir, failure in such an enter- 
prise, would be no common privilege. But we need no*; 
fail. The faithful consecration of our best efforts, is 
destined to demolish the throne of the prince of darkness : 
and honored will be the humblest man, permitted to raise 

100 a finger in the work. 



Exercise 59. 

The folly and tvickedness of war. — Knox. 

Two poor mortals, elevated with the distinction of a 
golden bauble on their heads, called a crown, take offence 
at each other, without any reason, or with the very bad 
one of wishing for an opportunity of aggrandizing them- 

5 selves by making reciprocal depredations. The crea- 
tures of the court, <md the leading men of the nation, 
who are usually under the influence of the court, resolve 
(for it is their' interest) to support their royal master, 
and are never at a loss to invent some colourable pre- 

10 tence for engaging the nation in war. Taxes of the 



E.< 5?] EXERCISES PA"kT If. 189 

most burdensome kind are levied, soldiers are collected, 
so as to leave a paucity of husbandmen ; reviews and 
encampments succeed ; and at last fifteen or twenty 
thousand men meet on a plain, and coolly shed each 

15 others blood, without the smallest personal animosity, 
or the shadow of a provocation. The kings, in the 
meantime, and the g an dees, who have employed these 
poor innocent victim i to shoot bullets at each other's 
heads, remain quiet]/ at home, and amuse themselves, 

20 in the intervals of balls, hunting schemes, and pleasures 
of every species, with reading at the fireside, and over i 
cup of chocolate, the despatches from the army, and the 
news in the Extraordinary Gazette. If the King of 
Prussia were not at the head of some of the best 

25 troops in the world he would be judged more worthy of 
being tried, and condemned, at the Old Bailey, *han any 
shedder of blood who ever died by a halter. But he 
is a king ; but he is jl hero ; — those names fascinate us, 
and we enroll the butcher of mankind among their 

30 benefactors. 

When one considers the dreadful circumstances that 
attend even victories, one cannot help being a little 
shocked at the exultation which they occasion. I have 
often thought it would be a laughable scene, if there 

35 were not too much of the melancholy in it, when a circle 
of eager politicians have met to congratulate each 
other on a piece of good news just arrived. Every eye 
sparkles with delight ; every voice is raised in announc- 
ing the happy event. And what is the cause of all this 

40 joy? and for what are our windows illuminated, bonfires 
kindled, bells rung, and feasts celebrated 1 We have 
had a successful engagement. We have left a thousand 
of the enemy dead on the field of battle, and only nine 
hundred of our countrymen. Charming news ! it was a 

45 glorious battle ! But before you give loose to your 
iaptures, pause awhile ; and consider, that to every one 
of these nineteen hundred, life was no less sweet than it 
is to you ; that to the far greater part of them there pro- 
bably were wives, fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, sis- 

50 ters, brothers and friends, all of whom are at this mo- 
ment bewailing that event which occasions your foolish 
and brutal triumph. 



190 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 60 

Exercise 60. 
The Warrior. — Harbinger of Peace. 

1 A gallant form is passing by, 

The plume bends o'er his 'ordly brow; 
A thousand tongues have rai ed on high 

His song of triumph now. 
Young knees are bending round his way, 
And age makes bare his locks of gray. 

2 Fair forms have lent t'leir gladdest smile, 

White hands have wav'd the conqueror on, 
And flowers have decked his path the while, 

By gentle fingers strewn. 
Soft tones have cheered him, and the brow 
Of beauty beams, uncover A now. 

3 The bard hath waked the song for him, 

And pour'd his boldest numbers forth; 
The wine cup, sparkling to the brim 

Adds frenzy to the mirth ; 
And every tongue, and every eye, 
Does homage to the passer by. 

4 (<) The gallant steed treads proudly on ; 

His foot falls firmly now, as when 
In strife that iron heel went down 

Upon the hearts of men ; 
And foremost in the ranks of strife, 
Trod out the last, dim spark of life. 

5 Dream they of these — the glad and gay, 

That bend around the conqueror's path ? 
The horrors of the conflict day — 

The gloomy field of death — - 
The ghastly slain — the severed head — 
The raven stooping o'er the dead 1 

5 Dark thoughts and fearful ! yet they bring 

No terrors to the triumph hour, 
Nor stay the reckless worshipping 

Of blended crime and power. 
The fair of form, the mild of mood, 
Do honor to the man of blood. 



Ex. 60, 61.] EXERCISES. PART II. 

7 Men — Christians ! pause — the air ye breathe, 

Is poison 1 d by your idol now; 
And will ye turn to him, and wreathe 

Your chaplets round his brow ? 
Nay, call his darkest deeds sublime ? 
And smile assent to giant crime ? 



Exercise 61. 

Death of Ashmun. — Mrs. Sigourney. 

1 ( — ) Whose is yon sable bier % 

Why move the throng so slow ? 
Why doth that lonely mother's tear 

In sudden anguish flow'? 
Why is that sleeper laid 

To rest in manhood's pride 1 
How gain'd his cheek such pallid shaae?- 

I spake, — but none replied. 

2 ( ) The hoarse wave murmur' d low, 

The distant surges roar'd; — 
And o'er the sea in tones of wo 

A deep response was pour'd ; 
I heard sad Africk mourn 

Upon her billowy strand ;— 
A shield was from her bosom torn, 

An anchor from her hand. — 

3 ( — ) Ah! well I know thee now, 

Though foreign suns would trace 
Deep lines of death upon thy brow, 

Thou friend of misery's race ; — 
Their leader when the blast 

Of ruthless war swept by, 
Their teacher when the storm was past, 

Their guide to worlds on high. — 

4 Spirit of Power, — pass on ! — 

Thy homeward wing is free ; — 
Earth may not claim thee for her son, — * 

She hath no chain for thee: — - 
Toil might not bow thee down, — 



'£2 EXERCISES.— PART II L Ex. 51, 62 

Nor Sorrow check thy race, — 
Nor pleasure win thy birthright crown, — 
Go to thy own blest place. — 



Exercise 62. 

Love of Applause. — Hawes. 

To be insensible to public opinion, or to the estimation 
in which we are held by others, indicates any thing-, 
rather than a good and generous spirit. It is indeed the 
mark of a low and worthless character; — devoid of prin- 
5 ciple, and therefore devoid of shame. A young man is 
not far from ruin, when he can say, without blushing, / 
dorCt care what others think of me. 

*But to have a proper regard to public opinion is one 
thing; to make That opinion our rule of action is quite 

10 another. The one we may cherish consistently with 
the purest virtue, and the most unbending rectitude : 
the other we cannot adopt, without an utter abandon- 
ment of principle and disregard of duty. The young 
man whose great aim is to please, who makes the opin- 

15 ion and favor of others his rule and motive of action; 
stands ready to adopt any sentiments, or pursue any 
course of conduct, however false and criminal, provided 
only, that it be popular. In every emergency, his first 
question is, what will my companions, what will the 

20 world think and say of me, if I adopt this, or that course 
of conduct ? Duty, the eternal laws of rectitude, are 
not thought of. Custom, fashion, popular favor; these 
are the things, that fill his entire vision, and decide 
every question of opinion and duty. Such a man can 

25 never be trusted ; for he has no integrity, and no in- 
dependence of mind, to obey the dictates of rectitude. 
He is at the mercy of every casual impulse and change 
of popular opinion; and you can no more tell whether he 
will be right or wrong to-morrow, than you can predict 

30 the course of the wind, or what shape the clouds will then 
assume. 

And what is the usual consequence of this weak and 
foolish regard to the opinions of men ? — What the end 
of thus acting in compliance with custom in opposition 

35 to one's own convictions of duty? It is to lose the es- 



Ex. 62, 63.] EXERCISES. PART II. 193 

teem and respect of the very men whom you thus at- 
tempt to please. Your defect of principle and hollow 
heartedr ess are easily perceived : and though the per- 
sons to whom you thus sacrifice your conscience, may 

40 affect to commend your complaisance, you may be as- 
sured, that, inwardly, they despise you for it. Young 
men can hardly commit a greater mistake, than to think ot 
gaining the esteem of others, by yielding to their wishes, 
contrary to their own sense of duty. Such conduct is 

45 always morally wrong, and rarely fails to deprive one, 
both of self respect, and of the respect of others. 



Exercise 63. 

_ Christian Integrity. — Hawes. 
It is very common, I know, for young men just com- 
mencing business, to imagine that, if they would ad- 
vance their secular interests, they must not be very scru- 
pulous in binding themselves down to the strict rules of 
5 rectitude. They must conform to custom ; and if in buying 
and selling they sometimes say the f hings that are not 
true, and do the things that are not honest ; why, their 
neighbors do the same : and, verily, there is no getting 
along without it. There is so much competition and ri- 

10 valry, that to be strictly honest, and yet succeed in 
business, is out of the question. 

Now if it were indeed so, I would say to a young man ; 
then, quit your business. Better dig, and beg too, than 
to tamper with conscience, sin against God, and lose your 

15 soul. 

But is it 80 ? — is it necessary in order to succeed in 
business, that you should adopt a standard of morals, 
more lax and pliable, than the one placed before you in 
the Bible? Perhaps, for a time, a rigid adherence to 

20 rectitude might bear hard upon you ; but how would it 
be in the end ? Possibly, your neighbor, by being less 
scrupulous than yourself, may invent a more expeditious 
way of acquiring a fortune. If he is willing to violate 
the dictates of conscience ; to lie, and cheat, and tram- 

25 pie on the rules of justice and honesty, he may, indeed, 
get the start of you, and rise suddenly to wealth and 
distinction. But would you envy him his riches, or be 

\ 7 



194 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 63, 64. 

willing to place yourself in his -situation ? Sudden 
wealth, especially, when obtained by dishonest means, 

30 rarely fails of bringing- with it sudden ruin. Those who 
acquire it, are of course beggared in their morals, and 
are often, very soon, beggared in property. Their riches 
are corrupted ; and while they bring the curse of God on 
their immediate possessors, they usually entail misery and 

35 ruin upon their families. 

If it be admitted then, that strict integrity is not al- 
ways the shortest way to success ; is it not the surest, 
the happiest, and the best? A young man of thorough 
integrity may, it is true, find it difficult, in the midst of 

40 dishonest competitors and rivals, to start in his business 
or profession ; but how long, ere he will surmount every 
difficulty ; draw around him patrons and friends, and 
rise in the confidence and support of all who know 
him 3j 

45 What, if in pursuing this course, you should not, at 
the close of life, have so much money by a few hundred 
dollars ? Will not a fair character, an approving con- 
science, and an approving God, be an abundant com- 
pensation for this little deficiency of pelf? 

50 O tnere is an hour coming, when one whisper of an 
approving mind, one smile of an approving God, will be 
accounted of more value than the wealth of a thousand 
worlds like this. In that hour, my young friends, nothing 
will sustain you but the consciousness of having been 

55 governed in life by worthy and good principles. 



Exercise 64. 
Watch. — J. Mason Good. 

1 Life is a sea, — how fair its face, 
How smooth its dimpling waters pace, 

Its canopy how pure ! 
But rocks below, and tempests sleep, 
Insidious, o'er the glassy deep, 

Nor leave an hour secure. 

2 Life is a wilderness, — -beset 

W T ith tangling thorns, and treach'rous net 
And prowl' d by beasts of prey. 



EX. 64.] EXERCISES. PART II. 195 

One path alone conducts aright, 
One narrow path, with little light; 
A thousand lead astray. 

3 Life is a warfare, — and alike 
Prepar'd to parley, or to strike, 

The practised foe draws nigh. 
O, hold no truce ! iess dangerous far 
To stand, and all his phalanx dare, 

Than trust his specious lie. 

4 Whate'er its form, whate'er its flow, 
While life is lent to man below, 

One duty stands confest, — 
To watch incessant, firm of mind, 
And watch where'er the post assigned, 

And leave to God the rest. 

p 'Twas while they watch' d, the shepherd swain* 
Heard angels strike to angel-strains 

The song of heavenly love: 
Blest harmony ! that far excels 
All music else on earth that dwells, 

Or e'er was tun'd above. 

5 'Twas while they watch' d, the sages traced 
The star that every star efFac'd 

With new and nobler shine : 
They follow' d, and it led the way 
To where the infant Saviour lay, 

And gave them light divine. 

7 'Twas while they watch' d, with lamp in hand, 
And oil well stor'd, the virgin band 

The bridal pomp descried ; 
They join'd it, — and the heavenly gate, 
That op'd to them its glorious state, 

Was clos'd on all beside. 

8 Watch! watch and pray! in suffering hour 
Thus He exclaim'd who felt its power, 

And triumph' d in the strife. 
Victor of Death ! thy voice I hear : 
Fain would I watch with holy fear, 
Would watch and pray through life's career, 

And only cease with life. 



196 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 65 

Exercise 65. 

New Social Order in America. — Douglas. 

America is to modern Europe, what its western colo- 
nies were to Greece, the land of aspirations and dreams, 
the country of daring enterprise, and the asylum of mis 
fortune, which receives alike the exile and the adventurer, 
5 the discontented and the aspiring, and promises to all a 
freer life, and a fresher nature. 

The European emigrant might believe himself as one 
transported to a new world, governed by new laws, and 
finds himself at once raised in the scale of being — the 

10 pauper is maintained by his own labor, the hired la- 
borer works on his own account, and the tenant is chang- 
ed into a proprietor, while the depressed vassal of the 
old continent becomes co-legislator, and co-ruler in a go- 
vernment where all power is from the people, and in the 

15 people, and for the people. The world has not witnessed 
an emigration like that taking place to America ; so ex- 
tensive in its range, so immeasurable in its consequences, 
since the dispersion of mankind ; hordes of emigrants 
are continually swarming off, as ceaseless in their pas- 

20 sage, and crowded, and unreturning, as the tr°^ T eJlers to 
eternity. Even those who are forced to reman- behind, 
feel a melancholy restlessness, like a bird <tfiauto« w ng is 
crippled, at the season of migration, and look forward to 
America, as to the land of the departed, where e^erv one 

25 has some near relative, or dear friend gone before him. 
A voice like that heard before the final ruin of Jerusalem, 
seems to whisper to those who have ears to hear, " Let us 
depart hence." 

Every change in America has occasioned a corres- 

30 pondent change in Europe ; the discovery of it over- 
turned the systems of the ancients ; and gave a new face 
to adventure and to knowledge; the opening of its mines 
produced a revolution in property ; and the independ- 
ence of the United States overturned the monarchy ox 

35 France, and set fire to a train which has not yet fully 
exploded. In every thing, its progress is interwoven 
with the fates of Europe. At every expansion of Ameri- 
can influence, the older countries are destined to un- 
dergo new changes, and to receive a second character 



Ex. 65, 66.] EXERCISES. PART II. 197 

40 from the colonies which they have planted, whose great- 
ness is on so much larger a scale than that of the parent 
countries, and which will exhibit those improvements 
which exist in miniature in Europe, unfettered by ancient 
prejudices, and dilated over another continent. 



Exercise 66. 

Voluntary Association. — Douglas. 

A new influence is arising, which is sufficiently able 

to supply the deficiencies of Governments, in attaining 

ends which they cannot reach, and in affording aids over 

which they have no control — the power of voluntary as- 

5 sociation. There is no object to which this power cannot 

adapt itself; no resources which it may not ultimately 

command; and a few individuals, if the public mind is 

gradually prepared to favor them, can lay the foundations 

of undertakings which would have baffled the might of 

those who reared the pyramids ; and the few who can 

divine the tendency of the age before it is obvious to 

others, and perceive in which direction the tide of public 

opinion is setting in, may avail themselves of the current 

and concentrate every breath that is favourable to then 

15 course. The exertions of a scanty number of individuals 
may swell into the resources of a large party, which, col- 
lecting at last all the national energies into its aid, and 
availing itself of the human sympathies that are in its 
favour, may make the field of its labour and its triumph 

20 as wide as humanity itself. The elements being favorably 
disposed, a speck of cloud collects vapours from the four 
winds which overshadow the heavens ; and all the vary- 
ing and conflicting events of life, and the no less jarring 
and discordant passions of the human breast, when once 

25 the channel is sufficiently deepened, will rush into one 
accelerating torrent, and be borne towards their destined 
end. The power of voluntary association, though scarcely 
tried as yet, is of largest promise for the future ; and 
when extended upon a great scale, is the influence most 

30 removed from the shock of accidents and the decay of 
earthly things, renewing its youth with renewed genera- 
tions, and becoming immortal through the perpetuity of 
the kind 

17* 



198 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 66, 67. 

The favourable result of all undertakings depends up- 

35 on the previous state and preparation of the world, no 
less than the vegetation of the seed does upon the soil 
into which it is cast ; those who have proceeded farthest 
in their attempts, and gained the point at which they 
aimed, had the stream in their favour, and were more 

40 indebted to the strength of the current than to their own 
individual efforts; their superiority to others consisted 
chiefly in their superior discernment; and they seemed 
to lead their contemporaries, merely because they them- 
selves were most led by the spirit of the age, and took a 

45 favourable situation for being borne forward by the tide, 
which they had the sagacity to see was upon the turn. 
The Greeks would have conquered the Persians without 
Alexander; the Romans would have been enslaved had 
Caesar never been born, and the Arabians would have 

50 been deceived by other imposters had Mahomet never 
professed himself a prophet. 



Exercise 67. 

Bible Societies. — Douglas. 
Modern writers have discovered that words are more 
plentiful than thoughts ; and that therefore the true econ- 
omy of writing consists in being sparing of the latter, and 
profuse of the former; the reports of different ^societies 
5 carry this even too far, and one may read through a long 
report, and reach the conclusion without meeting a sin- 
gle new fact, or new observation by the way. This ought 
to be amended, and a series of publications which would 
extend the knowledge, and deepen the interest which 

10 the subscribers take in the progress of religion, are 
strongly required, before that interest can become more 
general and abiding. With several defects, the Bible 
Society continues the most perfect institution of its kind, 
and the finest example of the power of voluntary associa- 

15 tion. It has merited the obloquy of that corruption of 
Christianity which styles itself Catholic; and while it 
has done religion one service, by uniting all its friends 
in one great cause, it has done it a second service, by 
uniting all its enemies, however hostile to ench other 

20 against it; thus ranging each side front to front, and 



Ex. 67, 68.] EXERCISES. PART II. 199 

preparing them for one decisive and final struggle. It 
leaves every one without excuse, who does not co-operate 
with it; it combines all classes and all creeds, the poor 
may contribute their mite, and the rich may pour in 

25 their abundance; and those who build precious things, 
and those who heap up stubble upon the foundation of 
the Scriptures, have here one point of agreement in the 
foundation for which they both earnestly contend. It 
has done more good than all the theological discussions 

30 for the last hundred years ; and though it has confuted 
no heresy, it has done still better, for it has made many 
be neglected and forgotten. It oversteps the boundaries 
of kingdoms, and the separation of national jealousies, 
and presents a field wide enough for men cf all nations 

35 and languages to enter, without conflicting or jarring with 
each other; its field is truly the world; it embraces di- 
rectly, or indirectly, all the interests of humanity; and it 
is ever profusely distributing the benefits of time, while 
its ultimate results are lost in the glories of eternity. 



Exercise 68. 
Chrisis Entry into Jerusalem. — Cunningham. 

1 From Olivet's sequester' d seats, 

What sounds of transport spread? 
What cqpcourse moves through Salem's streets, 

To Zion's holy head? 
Behold him-there in lowliest guise! 

The Saviour of mankind ! 

Triumphal sh&its before him rise, 

And shouts reply behind ! 
And "strike," they cry, "your loudest string: 
He comes I Hosanna to our king V 1 

2 Ho came to earth : from eldest years, 

A long and bright array, 
Of Prophet-bards and Patriarch-seers, 

Proclaimed the glorious day : 
The light of heaven in every breast, 

Its fire on every lip, 
In tuneful chorus on they pres 'd, 

A goodly fellowship : 



200 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 68 63. 

And on the pealing anthem ran, 
"Hosanna to the son of man ! " 

3 He came to earth : through life he pass'd 

A man of griefs : and, lo, 
A noble army following fast 

His track of pain and wo : 
All deck'd with palms, and strangely bright, 

That suffering host appears ; 
And stainless are their robes of white, 

Though steep'd in blood and tears; 
And sweet their martyr-anthem flows 
11 Hosanna to the Man of Woes ! n 

4 From ages past descends the lay, 

To ages yet to be, — 
Till far its echoes roll away 

Into eternity. 
But O ! while saints and angels high, 

Thy final triumph share, 

Amidst thy followers, Lord, would I, 

Though last and meanest there, 
Receive a place, and joyful raise 
A loud Hosanna to thy praise ! 

Exercise 69. 
Evening Hymn. — Monthly Visitor, 

1 Departing day fades in the west, 
The busy world is still, 

Be human passion hush'd to rest, 
Be tranquil, human will. 

2 Father in Heaven, to thee I bend, 
To thee I lift my prayer, 
Vouchsafe, Divine, Almighty Friend, 
Thy suppliant's voice to hear. „ 

3 If lur'd by pleasure's specious wiles, 
By shadowy hopes or fears, 

If earthly joys have waken'd smiles, 
Or earthly sorrows, tears ; 

4 If falPn from Thee, and Thy commands, 
(And fallen I must appear) 



Ex 69, 70.] EXERCISES. PART II. 201 

Before Thee, Lord, thy creature stands, 
A suppliant sincere. 

5 Oh be this day's offence forgiven, 

This night with slumbers blest ; « 

And pious trust in pardoning Heaven 
The pillow of my rest. 



Exercise 70. 

Universal Peace. — Chalmers. 
The first great obstacle to the extinction of war, is 
the way in which the heart of man is carried off from 
its barbarities and its horrors, by the splendor of its 
deceitful accompaniments. There is a feeling of the 
5 sublime in contemplating the shock of armies, just as 
there is in contemplating the devouring energy of a tem- 
pest ; and this so elevates and engrosses the whole man, 
that his eye is blind to the tears of bereaved parents, 
and his ear is deaf to the piteous moan of the dying, and 

10 the shriek of their desolated families. There is a grace- 
fulness in the picture of a youthful w T arrior, burning for 
distinction on the field, and lured by this generous aspi- 
ration to the deepest of the animated throng, w T here, in 
the fell work of death, the opposing sons of valor strug- 

15 gle for a remembrance and a name ; and this side of the 
picture is so much the exclusive object of our regard, as 
to disguise from our view the mangled carcasses of the 
fallen, and the writhing agonies of the hundreds and the 
hundreds more, who have been laid on the cold ground, 

20 where they are left to languish and to die. There no 
eye pities them. No sister is there to weep over them. 
There no gentle hand is present to ease the dying 
posture, or to bind up the wounds, which in the madden- 
ing fury of the combat, have been given and received, by 

25 the children of one common father. There death spreads 
its pale ensigns over every countenance, and when night 
comes on, and darkness around them, how many a des- 
pairing wretch must take up with the bloody field as the 
untended bed of his last sufferings, without one friend to 

30 bear the message of tenderness to his distant home, with- 
out one companion to close his eyes. 

T avow it. On every side of me I sec causes at work 



202 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 70, 71 

which go to spread a most delusive colouring over Avar, 
and to remove its shocking barbarities to the back ground 

35 of our contemplations altogether. I see it in the history, 
which tells me of the superb appearance of the troops, and 
the brilliancy of their successive charges. I see it in the 
poetry, which lends the magic of its numbers to the nar- 
rative of blood, and transports its many admirers; as by 

40 its images, and its figures, and its nodding plumes of 
chivalry, it throws its treacherous embellishments ovei 
a scene of legalized slaughter. I see it in the music, 
which represents the progress of the battle; and where, 
after being inspired by the trumpet-notes of preparation, 

45 the whole beauty and tenderness of a drawing-room are 
seen to bend over the sentimental entertainment ; noi 
do I hear the utterance of a single sigh to interrupt the 
death-tones of the thickening contest, and the moans ol 
the wounded men, as they fade away upon the ear, and 

50 sink into lifeless silence. All, all goes to prove what 
strange and half-sighted creatures we are. Were it not 
so, war could never have been seen in any other aspect 
than that of unmingled hatefulness ; and I can look to 
nothing but to the progress of Christian sentiment upon 

55 earth, to arrest the strong current of its popular and pre- 
vailing partiality for war. Then only will an impe- 
rious sense of duty lay the check of severe principle, on 
all the subordinate tastes and faculties of our nature. 
Then will glory be reduced to its right estimate, and the 

60 wakeful benevolence of the gospel, chasing away every 
spell, will be turned by the treachery of no delusion what- 
ever, from its sublime enterprises for the good of the spe- 
cies. Then the reign of truth and quietness will be 
ushered into the world, and war, cruel, atrocious, unre- 

65 lenting war will be stripped of its many and its bewilder- 
ing fascinations. 



Exercise 71. 

The Elder's Death Bed.— Prof. Wilson— Edinb. 
Part I. 
For six years' Sabbaths I had seen the Elder in his 
accustomed place beneath the pulpit — and, with a sort of 
solemn fear, had looked on his steadfast countenance, 



Ex.71.] EXERCISES. — PART II. 203 

during sermon, psalm, and prayer. On returning to the 
5 scenes of my infancy, I met the Pastor, going to pray by 
his death-bed — and, with the privilege which nature gives 
us to behold, even in their last extremity, the loving and 
beloved, I turned to accompany him to the house of sor- 
row, of resignation, and of death. 

10 And now, for the first time, I observed, walking close 
to the feet of his horse, a little boy about ten years of 
age, who kept frequently looking up in the Pastor's face, 
with his blue eyes bathed in tears. A changeful ex- 
pression of grief, hope, and despair, made almost pale, 

15 cheeks which otherwise were blooming in health and 
beauty; — and I recognised, in the small features and 
smooth forehead of childhood, a resemblance to the aged 
man whom we understood was now lying on his death- 
bed. " They had to send his grandson for me through 

20 the snow, mere child as he is," said the Minister, looking 
tenderly on the boy; " but love makes the young heart 
bold — and there is One who tempers the wind to the shorn 
lamb." 

As we slowly approached the cottage, through a deep 

25 snow-drift, which the distress within had prevented the 
inmates from removing, we saw, peeping out from the 
door, brothers and sisters of our little guide, who quick- 
ly disappeared, and then their mother showed herself 
in their stead, expressing, by her raised eyes, and 

30 arms folded across her breast, how thankful she was to 
see, at last, the Pastor, beloved in joy, and trusted in 
trouble. 

A few words sufficed to say who was the stranger — and 
the dying man, blessing me by name, held out to me his 

35 cold shrivelled hand in token of recognition. I took my 
seat at a small distance from the bed-side, and left a closer 
station for those who were more dear. 

" If the storm do not abate," said the sick man after a 
pause, " it will be hard for my friends to carry me over 

10 the drifts to the kirk-yard." This sudden approach to 
the grave, struck, as with a bar of ice, the heart of the 
loving boy — and, with a long deep sigh, he fell down, 
with his face like ashes, on the bed, while the old man's 
palsied right hand had just strength to lay itself upon his 

15 head. 

M God has been gracious to me a sinner," said the 



204 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 71 

dying man. " During thirty years that I have "been an 
elder m your kirk, never have I missed sitting there one 
Sahbath. When the mother of my children was taken 

50 from me — it was on a Tuesday she died — and on a Sat- 
urday she was buried. We stood together when my 
Alice was let down into the narrow house made for all 
living. On the Sabbath I joined in the public worship of 
God — she commanded me to do so the night before she 

55 went away. I could not join in the psalm that Sabbath, 
for her voice was not in the throng. — Her grave was 
covered up, and grass and flowers grew there." 

The old man ceased speaking — and his grandchild, 
now able to endure the scene, — for strong passion is its 

60 own support, — glided softly to a little tabie, and bringing 
a cup in which a cordial had been mixed, held it in his 
small, soft hands to his grandfathers lips. He drank, 
and then said, " Come closer to me, Jamie, and kiss me 
for thine own and thy father's sake;" and as the child 

65 fondly pressed his rosy lips on those of his grandfather, 
so white and withered, the tears fell over all the old man's 
face, and then trickled down on the golden head of the 
child, sobbing in his bosom. 

" Jamie, thy own father has forgotten thee in thy in- 

70 fancy, and me in my old age; but Jamie, forget not thou, 
thy father, nor thy mother ; for that, thou knowest and 
feelest, is the commandment of God." 

The broken-hearted boy could give no reply. He had 
gradually stolen closer and closer unto the loving old 

75 man, and now was lying, worn out with sorrow, drench- 
ed and dissolved in tears, in his grandfather's bosom, 
His mother had sunk down on her knees, and hid her 
face with her hand. " Oh ! if my husband knew but of 
this — he would never, never desert his dying father !" 

80 And I now knew that the Elder was praying on his death- 
bed for a disobedient and wicked son. 

Part II. 

At this affecting time the Minister took the Family 
Bible on his knees, and said, " Let us sing to the praise 
of God, part of the fifteenth Psalm." Ere the Psalm 
was yet over, the door was opened, and a tall fine look- 
5 ing man entered, but with a lowering and dark coun 
tenance, seemingly in sorrow, in misery, and remorse. 



Ex.71.] EXERCISES. PART II. 205 

Agitated, confounded, and awe-struck by the melancholy 
and dirge-like music, he sat down on a chair, and 
looked with a ghastly face towards his father's death- 

10 bed. When the psalm ceased, the Elder said with a 
solemn voice, " My son — thou art come in time to re- 
ceive thy father's blessing. May the remembrance of 
what will happen in this room, before the morning again 
shines over the Hazel -glen, win thee from t*he error of 

15 thy ways ! Thou art here to witness the mercy of thy 
God and thy Saviour, whom thou hast forgotten.'' 

The Minister looked, if not with a stem, yet with an 
upbraiding countenance, on the young man who had 
not recovered his speech, and said, " William ! for three 

20 years past, your shadow has not darkened the door ot 
the house of God. They who fear not the thunder, 
may tremble at the still, small voice — now is the hour 
for repentance — that your father's spirit may carry up to 
Heaven, tidings of a contrite soul, saved from the com 

25 pany of sinners !" 

The young man, with much effort, advanced to the 
bed-side, and at last found voice to say, " Father — I am 
not without the affections of nature — and I hurried 
home the moment I heard that the minister had been 

SO seen riding towards our house. 1 hope that you wil) yet 
recover, and, if 1 have ever made you unhappy, I ask 
your forgiveness ; — for though I may not think as you 
do on matters of religion, I have a human heart Father ! 
I may have been unkind, but I am not cruel. I ask 

35 your forgiveness." 

" Come near to me, William ; kneel down by the bed- 
side, and let my hand feel the head of my beloved son — 
for blindness is coming fast upon me. Thou wert my 
first born, and thou art my only living son. All thy 

40 brothers and sisters are lying in the church-yard, beside 
her whose sweet face thine own, William, did once so 
much resemble. Long wert thou the joy, the pride of 
my soul, — ay, too much the pride, for there was not in all 
the parish, such a man, such a son, as my own Wil- 

45 Ham. If thy heart has since been changed, God may 
inspire it again with right thoughts. I have sorely 
wept for thee— ay, William, when there was none near 
me — even as David wept for Absalom — for thee, my son, 
my son I" 

- 18 



206 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 71. 

50 A long, deep groan was the only reply ; but the whole 
body of the kneeling man was convulsed ; and it was 
easy to see his sufferings, his contrition, his remorse, 
and his despair. The Pastor said, with a sterner voice, 
and austerer countenance than were natural to him, 

55 " Know you whose hand is now lying on your rebel- 
lious head ? But what signifies the word father, to him 
w r ho has denied God, the Father of us all V- " Oh ! 
press him not too hardly," said his weeping wife, com- 
ing forward from a dark corner of the room, where 

60 she tried to conceal herself in grief, fear, and shame. 
" Spare, Oh ! spare my husband — he has ever been kind 
to me; 11 and with that she knelt down beside him, 
with her long, soft, white arms mournfully, and affection- 
ately laid across his neck. " Go thou, likewise, my 

65 sweet little Jamie," said the Elder, " go even out of my 
bosom, and kneel down beside thy father and thy mo- 
ther, so that I may bless you all at once, and with one 
yearning prayer." The child did as the solemn voice 
commanded, and knelt down, somewhat timidly, by his 

70 father's side; nor did the unhappy man decline encir- 
cling with his arm, the child too much neglected, but 
still dear to him as his own blood, in spite of the deaden- 
ing and debasing influence of infidelity. 

" Put the word of God into the hands of my son, and 

75 let him read aloud to his dying father the 25th, 26th, and 
27th verses of the eleventh chapter of the Gospel accord 
ing to St. John." The Pastor went up to the kneel- 
ers, and, with a voice of pity, condolence, and pardon, 
said, " There ivas a time when none, WiLiam, could 

80 read the Scriptures better than coulclst thou — can it be 
that the son of my friend hath forgotten the lessons of 
his youth ?" He had not forgotten them — there was no 
need of the repentant sinner to lift up Jiis eyes from the 
bed side. The sacred stream of the Gospel had worn a 

85 channel in his heart, and the waters were again flowing. 
With a choked voice he said, " Jesus said unto her, /am 
the resurrection and the life : And whosoever liveth, and 
believeth in me, shall never die. Believest thou this? 
She said unto him, Yea, Lord : I believe thou art 

90 the Christ the Son of God, which should come into the 
world." 

"That is not an unbeliever's voice" said the dying 



EX. 71, 72.J EXERCISES. ART II. 207 

man triumphantly ; " nor, William, hast thou an unbe- 
liever's heart Say that thou, believest in what thou 
95 hast now read, and thy father will die happy !" " I do 
believe; and as thou forgivest me, so may I be forgiven 
by my Father who is in heaven." The Elder seemed 
like a man suddenly inspired with a new life. His faded 
eye? kindled — his pale cheeks glowed — his palsied 

100 hands seemed to wax strong — and his voice was clear 
as that of manhood in its prime. ( ) Into thy hands, O 
God ! I commit my spirit ;" and so saying, he gently 
sunk back on his pillow; and I thought I heard a 
sigh. — There was then a long, deep silence, and the 

105 father, the mother, and the child, rose from their knees. 
The eyes of us all were turned towards the white, placid 
face of the figure now stretched in everlasting rest; and 
without lamentations, save the silent lamentations of the 
resigned soul, we stood around the Death-bed of the 

110 Elder. 



Exercise 72. 

Benevolence of God. — Chalmers. 

It is saying much for the benevolence of God, to say, 
that a single world, or a single system, is not enough 
for it — that it must have the spread of a mightier region, 
on which it may pour forth a tide of exuberancy through- 
5 out all its provinces — that, as far as our vision can carry 
us, it has strewed immensity with the floating recepta- 
cles of life, and has stretched over each of them the gar- 
niture of such a sky, as mantles our own habitation — 
and that, even from distances which are far beyond the 

10 human reach of eye, the songs of gratitude and praise 
may now be arising to the one God, who sits surrounde 
by the regards of his one great and universal family. 

Now it is saying much for the benevolence of God, to 
say, that it sends forth these wide and distant emana- 

15 tions over the surface of a territory so ample — that tha 
world we inhabit, lying imbedded as it does, amidst sc 
much surrounding greatness, shrinks into a point thai 
to the universal eye might appear to be almost imper- 
ceptible But does it not add to the power and to the 

20 perfection of this universal eye, that at the very moment 



208 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 72, 73. 

it is taking a comprehensive survey of the vast, it can 
fasten a steady and undistracted attention on each mi- 
nute and separate portion of it; that at the very mo- 
ment it is looking at all worlds, it can look most point- 

25 edly and most intelligently to each of them ; that at the 
very moment it sweeps the field of immensity, it can 
settle all the earnestness of its regards upon every dis- 
tinct hand-breadth of that field; that at the very mo- 
ment at which it embraces the totality of existence, it 

30 can send a most thorough and penetrating inspection 
into each of its details, and into every one of its endless 
diversities ? You cannot fail to perceive how much this 
adds to the power of the all-seeing eye. Tell me, then, 
if it do not add as much perfection to the benevolence 

35 of God, that while it is expatiating over the vast field 
of created things, there is not one portion of the field 
overlooked by it ; that while it scatters blessings over 
the whole of an infinite range, it causes them to de- 
scend in a shower of plenty on every separate habita- 

40 tion ; that while his arm is underneath and round about 
all worlds, he enters within the precincts of every one 
of them, and gives a care and a tenderness to each in- 
dividual of their teeming population. Oh ! does not the 
God, who is said to be love, shed over this attribute 

45 of his, its finest illustration ! when, while he sits in the 
highest heaven, and pours out his fullness on the whole 
subordinate domain of nature and of Providence, he 
bows a pitying regard on the very humblest of his chil- 
dren, and sends his reviving spirit into every heart, and 

50 cheers by his presence every home, and provides for the 
wants of every family, and watches every sick bed, and 
listens to the complaints of every sufferer; and while, by 
his wondrous mind, the weight of universal government 
is borne, oh ! is it not more wondrous and more excel- 

55 lent still, that he feels for every sorrow, and has an ear 
open to every prayer ! 



Exercise 73. 

Death of the Princess Charlotte. — Robert Hall. 

Without the slightest warning, without the opportunity 
of a' rrwwusM* immedi" «» ^reparation, in the midst oi 



Ex. 73.] EXERCISES. PART II. 209 

the deepest tranquillity, at midnight a voice was heard 
in the palace, not of singing men, and singing women, 
5 not of revelry and mirth, but the cry, "Behold the 
biidegroom cometh!". The mother in the bloom of 
you:h, spared just long enough to hear the tidings of her 
infant's death, almost immediately, as if summoned by 
his spirit, follows him into eternity. -* It is a night 

10 much to be remembered." Who foretold this event, 
who conjectured it, who detected at a distance the faint- 
est presage of its approach, which, when it arrived, 
mocked the efforts of human skill, as much by their^in- 
capacity to prevent, as their inability to foresee it! Un- 

15 moved by the tears of conjugal affection, una wed by 
the presence ot grandeur, and the prerogatives of power, 
inexorable death hastened to execute his stern com- 
mission, leaving nothing to royalty itself, but to retire 
and weep. Who can fail to discern on this awful oc- 

20 casion, the hand of Him who " bringeth the princes to 
nothing, who maketh the juages of the earth as vanity;" 
who says " they shall not be planted ; yea, they shall 
not be sown ; yea, their stock shall not take root in 
the earth ;" and he " shall blow upon them, and they 

25 shall wither, and the whirlwind shall take them away as 
stubble." 

But is it now any subject of regret, think you, to this 
amiable Princess so suddenly removed, "that her sun 
went down while it w 7 as yet day," or that, prematurely 

30 snatched from prospects the most brilliant and enchant- 
ing, she was compelled to close her eyes so soon on a 
world, of whose grandeur she formed so conspicuous a 
part? No ! in the full fruition of eternal joys, for which 
we humbly hope Religion prepared her, she is so far 

35 from looking back with lingering regret on what she 
has quitted, that she is surprised it had the power of 
affecting her so much ; — that she took so deep an in- 
terest in the scenes of this shadowy state of being, while 
so near to an " eternal weight of glory ;" and, as far as 

40 memory may be supposed to contribute to her happiness, 
by associating the present with the past, it is not r the 
recollection of her illustrious birth, and elevated pros- 
pects, but that she visited the abodes of the poor, and 
learned to weep with those that weep ; that surrounded 

45 with the fascinations of pleasure, she was not inebriated 
18 # 



210 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 73, 74. 

by its charms; that she resisted the strongest temptations 
to pride, preserved her ears open to truth, was impatient 
of the voice of flattery : in a word, that she sought and 
cherished the inspirations -of piety, and walked humbly 

50 with her God. 

The nation has certainly not been wanting in the 
proper expression of its poignant regret, at the sudden 
removal of this most lamented Princess, nor of their 
sympathy with the royal family, deprived by this visita- 

55 tion of its brightest ornament. Sorrow is painted in 
every countenance, the pursuits of business and of plea- 
sure have been suspended, and the kingdom is cohered 
with the signals of distress. But what, my friends, (if 
it were lawful to indulge such a thought,) what would 

60 be the funeral obsequies of a lost soul ? Where shall 
we find tears fit to be wept at such a spectacle, or, could 
w T e realize the calamity in all its extent, what tokens of 
commiseration and concern would be deemed equal to 
the occasion ? Would it suffice for the sun to veil his 

65 light, and the moon her brightness ; to cover the ocean 
with mourning, and the heavens with sackcloth ; or, 
were the whole fabric of nature to become animated and 
vocal, would it be possible for her to utter a groan too 
deep, or a cry too piercing, to express the magnitude and 

70 extent of such a catastrophe? 



Exercise 74. 

Remarkable Preservation from Death at Sea. 
Prof. Wilson. 
You have often asked me to describe to you on paper 
an event in my life, which at the distance of thirty 
years, I cannot look back to without horror. No words 
can give an adequate image of the miseries I suffered 
5 during that fearful night; but I shall try to* give you 
something like a faint shadow of them, that from it your 
soul may conceive what I must have suffered. 

I was, you know, on my voyage back to my native 
country, after an absence of five years spent in uninter- 
10 mitting toil, in a foreign land, to which I had been driv- 
en by a singular fatality. Our voyage had been most 
cheerful and prosperous, and, on Christmas day, we 
were within fifty leagues of port. Passengers and crew 



Ex. 74.j EXERCISES. PART II. • 211 

were all in the highest spirits, and the ship was alive 
15 with mirth and jollity. 

About eight o'clock in the evening, I went on deck. 
The ship was sailing upon a wind, at the rate of seven 
knots an hour, and there was a wild grandeur in the 
night. A. strong snow-storm blew, but steadily and 

20 without danger; and, now and then, when the strug- 
gling moonlight overcame the sleety and misty darkness, 
we saw, for some distance round us, the agitated sea all 
tumbling with foam. There were no shoals to fear, and 
the ship kept boldly on her course, close reefed, and mis- 

25 tress of the storm. I leant over the gunwale, admiring 
the water rushing past like a foaming cataract, when, by 
some unaccountable accident, I lost my balance, and in 
an instant, fell overboard into the sea. 

I remember a convulsive shuddering all over my body, 

30 and a hurried leaping of my heart, as I felt myself about 
to lose hold of the vessel, and, afterwards a sensation of 
the most icy dullness, from immersion into the waves, but 
nothing resembling a fall or precipitation. When below 
the water, I think that a momentary belief rushed across 

35 my mind, that the ship had suddenly sunk, and that 1 
was but one of a perishing crew. I imagined that I felt 
a hand with long fingers clutching at my legs, and made 
violent efforts to escape, dragging after me, as I thought 
the body of some drowning wretch. On rising to the 

40 surface, I recollected in a moment what had befallen 
me, and uttered a cry of horror, which is in my ears to 
this day, and often makes me shudder, as if it were the 
mad shriek of another person in extremity of perilous 
agony. Often have I dreamed c Tr er again that dire mo- 

45 ment, and the cry I utter in my sleep is said to be some- 
thing more horrible than a human voice. No ship was 
to be seen. She was gone forever. The little happy 
world to which, a moment before, I had belonged, had 
swept by, and I felt that God had flung me at once from 

50 the heart of joy, delight, and happiness, into the utter- 
most abyss of mortal misery and despair. Yes ! I felt 
that the Almighty God had done this, — that there was 
an act, a fearful act of Providence, and miserable worm 
that I was, I thought that the act was cruel, and a sort of 

55 wild, indefinite, objectless rage and wrath assailed me, 
and took for awhile the place of that first shrieking ter- 



212 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 74. 

ror. I gnashed my teeth, and cursed myself, — and, 
with bitter tears and yells, blasphemed the name of God. 
It is true my friend, that I did so. God forgave that 

60 wickedness. The Being, whom I then cursed, was, in 
his tender mercy, not unmindful of me, — of me, a poor, 
blind, miserable, mistaken worm. But the waves dash- 
ed on me, and struck me on the face, and howled at 
me; and the winds yelled, and the snow beat like drift- 

55 ing sand into my eyes, — and the ship, the ship was 
gone, and there was I left to struggle, and buffet, and 
gasp, and sink, and perish, alone, unseen, and unpitied 
by man, and, as I thought too, by the everlasting God. 
I tried to penetrate the surrounding darkness with my 

70 glaring eyes, that felt leaping from their sockets ; and 
saw, as if by miraculous power, to a great distance 
through the night, — but no ship, — nothing but white- 
crested waves, and the dismal noise of thunder. I shout- 
ed, shrieked, and yelled, that I might be heard by the 

75 crew, till my voice was gone, — and that too, when I 
knew that there were none to hear me. At last I be- 
came utterly speechless, and, when I tried to call aloud, 
there was nothing but a -silent gasp and convulsion, — 
while the waves came upon me like stunning blows, re- 

80 iterated, and drove me along, like a log <rf wood, or a 
dead animal. 

PART II. 

All this time I was not conscious of any act of swim- 
ming; but I soon found that I had instinctively been 
exerting all my power and skill, and both were requisite 
to keep me alive in the tumultous wake of the ship. 
5 Something struck me harder than a wave. What it was 
I knew not, but I grasped it .with a passionate violence, 
for the hope of salvation came suddenly over me, and 
with a sudden transition from despair, I felt that I was 
rescued. I had the same thought as if I had been sud- 

10 denly heaved on shore by a wave. The crew had 
thrown overboard every thing they thought could afford 
me the slightest chance of escape from death, and a hen- 
coop had drifted towards me. At once all the stories 
I had ever read of mariners miraculously saved at sea, 

15 rushed across my recollection. I had an object to 
cling to, which I knew would enable me to prolong my 



Ex. 74.] EXERCISES. FART II. 218 

existence. I was no longer helpless on the cold welter- 
ing world of waters ; and the thought that my friends 
were thinking of me, and doing all they could for me, 

20 gave to me a wonderful courage. I may yet pass the 
night in the ship, I thought ; and I looked round eager- 
ly to hear the rush of her prow, or to see through the 
sfrow-drift the gleaming of her sails. 

This was hut a momentary gladness. The ship I 

25 knew could not be far ofi^ but, for any good she could 
do me, she might have been in the heart of the Atlan- 
tic Ocean. Ere she could have altered her course, I 
must have drifted a long way to leeward, and in that 
dim snowy night how was such a speck to be seen ? I 

SO saw a flash of lightning, and then, there was thunder. 
It was the ship firing a gun, to let me know, if still 
alive, that she was somewhere lying to. But wherefore? 
I was separated from her by a dire necessity, — by many 
thousand fierce waves, that would not let my shrieks be 

35 heard. Each succeeding gun was heard fainter and 
fainter, till at last I cursed the sound, that, scarcely 
heard above the hollow rumbling of the tempestuous sea, 
told me, that the ship was farther and farther GfT, till she 
and her heartless crew had left me to my fate. ' Why did 

40 they not send out all their boats to row round and round 
all the night through, for the sake of one whom they 
pretended to . love so w r ell 1 I blamed, blessed, and 
cursed them by fits, till every emotion of my soul was 
exhausted, and I clung in sullen despair to the wretched 

45 piece of wood, that still kept me from eternity. 

Every thing was now seen in its absolute, dread- 
ful reality. I was a Cast-a-way — no hope of rescue. It 
was broad daylight, and the storm had ceased ; but 
clouds lay round the horizon, and no land was to be 

50 seen. What dreadful clouds ! Some black as pitch, 
and charged with thunder; others like cliffs of fire; 
and here and there all streamered over with blood. It 
was indeed a sullen, wrathful, and despairing sky. The 
sun itself was a dull brazen orb, cold, dead, and beam- 

55 less. I beheld three ships afar off, but all their heads 
were turned away from me. For whole hours they 
would adhere motionless to the sea, while I drifted away 
from them; and then a rushing wind would spring up, 
and carry them, one by one, into the darkness of the 



214 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 74, 75. 

60 stormy distance. Many birds came close to me, as if to 
flap me with their large spreading wings, screamed round 
and round me, and then flew away in their strength, and 
beauty, and happiness. 

I now felt myself indeed dying. A calm came over 

65 me. I prayed devoutly for forgiveness of my sins, and 
for all my friends on earth. A ringing was in my ears, 
and I remember only the hollow fluctuations of the sea 
with which I seemed to be blended, and a sinking down 
and down an unfathomable depth, which I thought was 

70 Death, and into the kingdom of the eternal Future. 

I awoke from insensibility and oblivion with a hideous, 
racking pain in my head and loins, and in a place cf utter 
darkness. I heard a voice say, " Praise the Lord." My 
agony was dreadful, and I cried aloud. Wan, glimmer- 

75 ing, melancholy lights, kept moving to and fro. I heard 
dismal whisperings, and now and then a pale silent ghost 
glided by. A hideous din was over head, and around me 
the fierce dashing of the waves. Was I in the land of 
spirits % But, why strive to recount the mortal pain of 

80 my recovery, the soul-humbling gratitude that took pos- 
session of my being? I was lying in the cabin of a ship, 
and kindly tended by a humane and skilful man. I had 
been picked up apparently dead and cold. , The hand of 
God was there. Adieu, my dear friend. It is now the 

85 hour of rest, and I hasten to fall down on my knees be- 
fore the merciful Being who took pity upon me, and who, 
at the intercession of our Redeemer, may, I hope, pardon 
all my sins. 



Exercise 75. 

The Bible the best Classic. — Grimke. 

To the Parent, I would say, your offspring are the 
children of God. On you they depend for education. 
God has commanded you to train them betimes, to know 
and to serve, to love and to enjoy him. The paths of 
! business are equally the paths of temptation and duty. 
Religion belongs 10 every thought, and word, and deed. 
As then the Bible is the only standard of duty, why do 
you not interweave it with the whole scheme of secular 
education ? To the Listructer, I would say, you stand 



Ex. 75, 76.] EXERCISES.— PART II. 215 

10 in the place of Parent and Guardian. Their duties are 
unquestionably yours. To you is transferred, not only 
the obligation to teach, but more especially the selection 
of appropriate books, and the regulation of the order and 
proportion of studies. What Parent or Guardian has 

15 ever interfered with your plans? How entirely, and 
with what a cordial confidence, have they appointed you 
to think, to consult, to decide, to act for them % Why 
then have you excluded the Bible of those very Parents 
and Guardians, from the whole scheme for the educa- 

20 tion of their children and wards % To the Patriot, I 
would say, can you doubt, that to the Bible, your coun- 
try owes not only her religious liberty, and her entire 
moral condition, but, to a great extent, her civil and po- 
litical rights, her science, literature and arts ? The Bi- 

25 ble is emphatically the book of truth and knowledge, ot 
freedom and happiness to your country. Children you 
regard as public property ; and you know, that they will 
honor and serve their country best, the more they are 
instructed in the Scriptures, and imbued with their spi- 

30 rit. Why then, do you withhold the full benefit of those 
sacred oracles, by thus proscribing them, in every scheme 
of education ? To the Christian, I would say, you ad- 
mit the divinity of the Scriptures, their absolute authority, 
and inestimable worth. You concede, that they are the 

35 common property of all ; that even children may profit 
by them, since they are so simple and plain, that the way- 
faring man, though a fool, shall not err therein. Why 
then do you not give them this lamp of life, as well as the 
lamp of knowledge to guide them daily, with harmonious 

40 beams, in their preparation for the inseparable duties and 
business of life. To the Scholar, I would say, we offer 
you a more ancient, venerable, noble classic, than is to 
be' found in the whole compass, of Grecian and Roman 
Literature. 



Exercise 76. 

Fathers of New England. — S Prague. 

I Behold! they come — those sainted forms, 
Unshaken through the strife of storms ; 
Heaven's winter cloud hangs coldly down, 



216 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 76 

And earth puts on its rudest frown ; 
But colder, ruder was the hand, 
That drove them from their own fair land, 
Their own fair land — refinement's chosen seat, 
Art's trophied dwelling, learning's green retreat ; 
By valour guarded, and by victory crowned, 
For all, but gentle charity, renowned. 

With streaming eye, yet steadfast heart, 
Even from that land they dared to part, 

And burst each tender tie ; 
Haunts, where their sunny youth was passed, 
Homes, where they fondly hoped at last 

In peaceful age to die ; 
Friends, kindred, comfort, all they spurned — 

Their fathers' hallowed graves ; 
And to a world of darkness turned, 
Beyond a world of waves. 

2 When Israel's race from bondage fled, 
Signs from on high the wanderers led ; 
But here — -.Heaven hung no symbol here, 
Their steps to guide, their souls to cheer ; 
They saw, through sorrow's lengthening night, 
Nought but the fagot's guilty light; 

The cloud they gazed at was the smoke, 
That round their murdered brethren broke. 
Nor power above, nor power below, 
Sustained them in their hour of wo ; 

A fearful path they trod, 

And dared a fearful doom ; 
To build an altar to their God, 

And find a quiet tomb. 

3 Yet, strong in weakness, there they stand, 

On yonder ice-bound rock, 
Stern and resolved, that faithful band, 

To meet fate's rudest shock. 
Though anguish rends the father's breast, 
For them, his dearest and his best, 

With him the waste who trod — 
Though tears that freeze, the mother sheds 
Upon her children's houseless heads — 
The Christian turns to God ! 



Ex. 76.] EXERCISES. PART II. 217 

4 In grateful adoration now, 
Upon the barren sands they bow. 

What tongue of joy e'er woke such prayer, 

As bursts in. desolation there? 

What arm of strength e'er wrought such power. 

As waits to crown that feeble hour? 
There into life an infant empire springs ! 

There falls the iron from the soul ; 

There liberty's young accents roll, 
Up to the King of kings ! 

To fair creation's farthest bound, 

That thrilling summons yet shall sound ; 

The dreaming nations shall awake, 
And to their centre earth's old kingdoms shake. 

Pontiff and prince, your sway 

Must crumble from that day; 
Before the loftier throne of Heaven, 
The hand is raised, the pledge is given — 
One monarch to obey, one creed to own, 
That monarch, God, that creed, His word alone. 

5 Spread out earth's holiest records here, 
Of days and deeds to reverence dear ; 

A zeal like this what pious legends tell? 
On kingdoms built 
In blood and guilt, 
The worshipers of vulgar triumph dwell- 
But what exploit with theirs shall page, 

Who rose to bless their kind ; 
Who left their nation and their age, 
Man's spirit to unbind? 
Who boundless seas passed o'er, 
And boldly met, in every path, 
Famine and frost and heathen wrath, 
To dedicate a shore, 
Where piety's meek train might breathe their vow 
And seek their Maker with an unshamed brow ; 
Where liberty's glad race might proudly come, 
And set up there an everlasting home? 

19 



218 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 77. 

Exercise 77. 

Duty of Literary men to their Country. — Grimke. 

We cannot honor our country with too deep a refe- 
rence; we cannot love her with an affection too pure 
and fervent ; we cannot serve her with an energy of 
purpose or a faithfulness of zeal, too steadfast and ar- 
5 dent. And what is our country? It is not the East, 
with her hills and her valleys, with her countless sails, 
and the rocky ramparts of her shores. It is not the 
North, with her thousand villages, and her harvest-home, 
with her frontiers of the lake and the ocean. It is not the 

10 West, with her forest-sea and her inland-isles, with her 
luxuriant expanses, clothed in the verdant corn, with her 
beautiful Ohio, and her majestic Missouri. Nor is it 
yet the South, opulent in the mimic snow of the cot- 
ton, in the rich plantations of the rustling cane, and in 

15 the golden robes of the rice-field. What are these 
but the sister families of one greater, better, holier 
family, our country? I corns not here to speak the 
dialect, or to give the counsels of the patriot-states- 
man. But I come, a patriot-scholar, to vindicate the 

20 rights, and to plead for the interests of American Litera- 
ture. And be assured, that we cannot, as patriot- 
scholars, think too highly of that country, or sacrifice 
too much for her. And let us never forget, let us 
rather remember with a religious awe, that the union of 

25 these States is indispensable to our Literature, as it 
is to our national independence and civil liberties, 
to our prosperity, happiness, and improvement. If, 
indeed, we desire to behold a Literature like that, which 
has sculptured, with such energy of expression, which 

30 has painted so faithfully and vividly, the crimes, the 
vices, the follies of ancient and modern Europe : if 
we desire that our land should furnish for the orator 
and the novelist, for the painter and the poet, age 
after age, the wild and romantic scenery of war ; the 

35 glittering march of armies, and the revelry of the camp ; 
the shrieks and blasphemies, and all the horrors of the 
battle field ; the desolation of the harvest, and the 



Ex. 77, 78.] EXERCISES. PART II. 219 

burning cottage; the storm, the sack, and the ruin of 

40 cities: If we desire to unchain the furious passions of 
je.r!uusy and selfishness, of hatred, revenge and ambition, 
those lions, that now sleep harmless in their den : if we 
desire, that the lake, the river, the ocean, should blush 
with the blood of brothers ; that the winds should waft 

45 from the land to the sea, from the sea to the land, the 
roar and the smoke of battle; that the very mountain- 
tops should become altars for the sacrifice of brothers; 
if we desire that these, and such as these — the elements 
to an incredible extent, of the Literature of the old 

5-0 world — should be the elements of our Literature, then, 
but then only, let us hurl from its pedestal the majestic 
statue of our union, and scatter its fragments over all 
our land. But, if we covet for our country the noblest, 
purest, loveliest Literature, the world has ever seen, such 

55 a Literature as shall honor God, and bless Mankind; a 
Literature, whose smiles might play upon an Angel's 
face, whose "tears would not stain an Angel's cheek;" 
then let us cling to the union of these States, with a pat- 
riot's love, with a scholar's enthusiasm, with a christian's 

60 hope. In her heavenly character, as a holocaust self- 
sacrificed to God; at the height of her glory, as the or- 
nament of a free, educated, peaceful, christian people, 
American Literature will find thai the intellectual 

SPIRIT IS HER VERY TREE OF LIFE, AND THAT UNION, 
65 HER GARDEN OF PARADISE. 



Exercise 78. 

Eulogy on Adams and Jefferson. — Wirt. 

Such was the state of things under which the „Con- 
gress of 1776 assembled, when Adams and Jefferson 
again met. It was, as you know, in this Congress, that 
the question of American Independence came, for the first 
5 time, to be discussed; and never, certainly, has a more 
momentous question been discussed in any age or in any 
country; for, it was fraught, not only with the destinies ot 
this wide extended 'continent, but as the event has shown, 
and is still showing, with the destinies of man all over the 
10 world 



220 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 78. 

Amid this appalling array that surrounded them, the 
first to enter the breach, sword in hand, was John Adams 
— the vision of his youth at his heart and his country 
in every nerve. On the sixth of May, he offered, in 

15' committee of the whole, the significant resolution, that 
the colonies should form governments independent of 
the crown. This was the harbinger of more important 
measures, and seems to have been put forward to fee] 
the pulse of the House. The resolution, after a severe 

20 struggle, was adopted on the 15th of May following. 
On the 7th of June, by previous concert, Richard Henry 
\j e moved the great resolution of Independence, and 
v v as seconded by John Adams; and "then came the 
tug of war." The debate upon it was continued from 

25 the 7th to the 10th, when the further consideration 
of it was postponed to the 1st of July, and at the same 
time a committee ot five was appointed to prepare, pro- 
visionally, a draught of a Declaration of Independence. 
At the head of this important committee, which was then 

30 appointed by a vote of the House, although he was proba- 
bly the youngest member, and one of the youngest men 
in the House, for he had served only part of the former 
session, and was but thirty-two years of age, stands the 
name of Thomas Jefferson — Mr. Adams stands next. 

35 And these two gentlemen, having been deputed a sub- 
committee to prepare the draught, that draught, at Mr. 
Adams's earnest importunity, was prepared by hlo more 
youthful friend. Of this transaction Mr. Adams is him- 
self the historian, and the authorship of the Declaration, 

40 though once disputed, is thus placed forever beyond the 
reach of question. 

The final debate on the resolution was postponed as 
we have seen, for nearly a month. In the meantime, 
all who are conversant with the course of action of all 

45 deliberative bodies, know how much is done by conver- 
sation among the members. It is not often, indeed, that 
proselytes are made on great questions by public debate. 
On such questions, opinions are far more frequently 
formed in private, and so formed, that debate is seldom 

50 known to change them. Hence the value of the out-of- 
door talent of chamber consultation, where objections, 
candidly stated, are candidly, calmly, and mildly discus- 
sed ; where neither pride, nor shame, nor anger take 



Ex, 78, 79.] EXERCISES. PART II. 221 

- part in the discussion, nor stand in the way of a correct 

55 conclusion : but where every thing being conducted 
frankly, delicately, respectfully, and kindly, the better 
cause and the better reasoner are almost always sure 
of success In this kind of service, as well as in all 
that depended on the power of composition, Mr. JefTer- 

60 son was as much a master-magician, as his eloquent friend 
Adams was in debate. They were, in truth, hemispheres 
of the same golden globe, and required only to be brought 
and put together, to prove that they were parts of the same 
heaven -formed whole. 

65 On the present occasion, however, much still remained 
to be effected by debate. The first of July came, and the 
great debate on the resolution for independence was re- 
sumed with fresh spirit. The discussion was again pro- 
tracted for two days, which, in addition to he former three, 

70 were sufficient, in that age, to call out ail the speaking 
talent of the House. ###### 

Mr. Jefferson has told us that "the Colossus of that 
Congress — the great pillar of support to the Declaration 
of Independence, and its ablest advocate and champion 

15 on the floor of the House, was John Adams." 

The resolution having been carried, the draught of 
the declaration came to be examined in detail ; and, so 
faultless had it issued from the hands of its author, that it 

80 was adopted as he had prepared it, pruned only of a few 
of its brightest inherent beauties, through a prudent defer- 
ence to some of the states. It was adopted about noon of 
the Fourth, and proclaimed to an exulting nation, on the 
evening of the same day. 

85 That brave and animated band who signed it — where 
are they now ? What heart does not sink at the question? 
One only survives: Charles Carroll, of Carrollton — 
a noble specimen of the age that has gone by, and now the 
single object of that age, on whom the veneration and 

90 prayers of his country are concentrated. 



Exercise 79. 

The Greek Revolution. — Webster. 
The end and scope of this amalgamated policy is 
n either more nor less than this : — to interfere, by force, 
19* 



222 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 79. 

for any government, against any people who may resist 
it. Be the state of the people what it may, they shall 
5 not rise ; be the government what it will, it shall not 
be opposed, The practical commentary has corresponded 
with the plain language of the text. Look at Spain and 
at Greece. If men may not resist the Spanish in qui 
sition, and the Turkish scimetar, what is there to which 

10 humanity must not submit? Stronger cases can never 
arise. — Is it not proper for us, at all times — is it not our 
duty, at this time, to come forth, and deny, and condemn, 
these monstrous principles? Where, but here and in 
one other place, are they likely to be resisted ? They 

15 are advancing with equal coolness and boldness; and 
they are supported by immense power. The timid will 
shrink and give way — and many of the brave may be 
compelled to yield to force. Human liberty may yet, 
perhaps, be obliged . to repose its principal hopes on the 

20 intelligence and the vigour of the *Saxon race. As far 
as depends on us, at least, I trust those hopes will not 
be disappointed ; and that, to the extent which may con- 
sist w^ith our own settled, pacific policy, our opinions and 
sentiments may be brought to act on the right side, and 

25 to the right end, on an occasion which is, in truth, 
nothing less than a momentous question between an in- 
telligent age, full of knowledge, thirsting for improve- 
ment, and quickened by a thousand impulses, and the 
most arbitrary pretensions, sustained by unprecedented 

30 power. 

In four days, the fire and the sword of the Turk, ren- 
dered the beautiful Scio a clotted mass of blood and ashes. 
The details are too shocking to be recited. Forty 
thousand women and children, unhappily saved from the 

35 general destruction, were afterwards sold in the market 
of Smyrna, and sent off into distant and hopeless servi- 
tude. Even on the wharves of our own cities, it has 
been said, have been sold the utensils of those hearths 
which now exist no longer. Of the whole population 

40 which I have mentioned, not above 900 persons .were 
left living upon the island. I will only repeat, sir, that 
these tragical scenes were as fully known Lt the Con- 
gress of Verona, as they are now known to us ; and it is 
not too much to call on the powers that constituted that 

45 Congress, in the name of conscience, and in the name 



Ex. 79, 80.] EXERCISES. PART II. 223 

of humanity, to tell us if there be nothing even in these 
unparalleled excesses of Turkish barbarity, to excite a 
sentiment of compassion; nothing which they regard as 
so objectionable as even the very idea of popular resist- 

50 ance to arbitrary power. * * * * * 

I close, then, sir, with repeating, that the' object of this 
resolution is, to avail ourselves of the interesting oc- 
casion of the Greek revolution, to make our protest 
against the doctrines of the Allied Powers ; both as they 

55 are laid down in principle, and as they are applied in 
practice. 

' I think it right, too, sir, not to be unseasonable in the 
expression of our regard, and, as far as that goes, in a 
ministration of our consolation to a long oppressed and 

60 now struggling people. lam not of those who would in 
the hour of utmost peril, withhold such encouragement 
as might be properly and lawfully given, and when the 
crisis should be passed, overwhelm the rescued sufferer 
with kindness and caresses. The Greeks address the 

65 civilized world with a pathos not easy to be resisted. 
They invoke our favor by more moving considerations 
than can well belong to the condition of any other 
people. They stretch out their arms to the Christian 
communities of the earth, beseeching them, by a generous 

70 recollection of their ancestors, by the consideration of 
their own desolated and ruined cities and villages, by 
their wives and children, sold into an. accursed slavery, 
by their own blood, which they seem willing to pour out 
like water, by the common faith, and in the Name, which 

75 unites all Christians, that they would extend to them, at 
least some token of compassionate regard. 



Exercise 80. 

Triumph of the Gospel. — Phillip. 

Whatever may be said scofrlngly, or in earnest, 
about the march of intellect, the age in which we live 
is more distinguished than perhaps any other, by the 
march and triumph of enlightened, religious, and moral 
principle. Even the world itself seems to have forebod- 
ings of an approaching change ; all creatures sigh to be 
renewed ; the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in 



224 EXERCISES. — PART II. [Ex 80. 

pain together. There is at present a restlessness and 
an apprehension on the public mind, in relation to com- 

10 ing events, something resembling the uneasiness and 
anxiety occasioned by the atmosphere, which is some- 
times the forerunner of an earthquake; like Jerusalem, 
when Christ entered it on his way to Calvary — the j 
whole world seems to be moved — in short, all nature 

15 seems to sympathise with us, who have the first fruits of 
the Spirit, while we groan within ourselves, waiting for 
the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our bodies. We 
have every reason to believe that we are at this moment 
standing on the brink of a great moral revolution. The § 

20 Angel of the Apocalypse, having the everlasting Gospel 
to preach to them that dwell in the uttermost parts of j; 
the earth, is now on the wing ; the shadow of death is 
in many parts turned into the morning ; the dawn of 
that day which is to renovate the dominions of darkness i 

25 has arisen upon us ; the delightful anticipations of former 
ages begin to be realized; the splendid visions of pro- 
phecy are now embodying before rur eyes; and from 
the altar of God a fire has been kindled, which, like the 
last conflagration, will continue to burn, till the elements 

o0 of corruption shall melt with fervent heat — till the earth, 
or political heavens, v/hich are unfavorable to the pro- 
gress of divine truth, shall be purified, or shall pass away 
with a great noise — till every idol in the heathen world 
shall be consumed — till the present system of things 

35 shall give place to the new T heavens and the new earth, — 
till the celestial voice shall salute our ears, " Behold the 
tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with 
them, and they shall be his people, and he w T ill be their 
God." 

40 Were yonder sun turned into darkness and the moon 
into blood ; were the whole frame of nature dissolved, 
God would remain. t God would be the same in himself 
as he now is ; but the promises contain, virtually con- 
tain the veracity of God ; and when it is said that the 

45 glory of the Lord shall cover the earth, as the waters 
cover the channels of the great deep, it is enough for me 
that the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it. I take my 
stand upon the high table-land of promise, and look 
forward with certainty to the period, when all the pro- 

50 mises, which respect the future grandeur of Christ's 



Ex. 80, 81.] EXERCISES. PART II. 225 

kingdom, shall be accomplished. — Arise and shine, for 
thy light is come; let the- Directors of this Society arise 
and shine; let the churches of London arise and shine; 
let the ministers of London arise and shine ; let the rich 

55 professors of religion arise and shine. Zion, the joy of 
the whole earth, shall arise and shine, for the glory of 
the Lord has arisen upon her; her palaces shall be 
adorned by the just and good of all ages. Multitudes 
who live in regions far remote, and myriads yet to come, 

60 will arise to call her blessed : the barbarous nations shall 
attend at her gates, the numerous tribes of Africa, the 
millions of Madagascar, and the teeming population of 
India, and of China, shall be seen pressing forward to 
her hallowed courts, bending in her sanctuary, and of- 

65 fering unto God the sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving. 
The wealth of the nations shall be brought into her 
treasury, the martial trumpet shall be suspended on her 
battlements, and the temple of peace shall exhibit the 
sword and the spear, to remind us of the triumph of the 

70 Gospel. Kings' daughters shaU be among her honor- 
able women, the daughter of Tyre shall be there with a 
gift, the gold of Sheba and Seba shall be offered unto her, 
and the rich among the people shall entreat her favor; 
the light himself shall shine revealed from Heaven, and 

75 one tide of glory, one unclouded blaze, shall overflow her 
courts. 



Exercise 81. 

Duties and Prospects of New England. — Pres. Quincy. 

And now, standing at this hour on the dividing line 

which separates the ages that are past, from those which 

are to come, how solemn is the thought that not one of 

this vast assembly — not one of that great multitude who 

5 now throng our streets, rejoice in our fields, and make 
our hills echo with their gratulations, shall live to wit- 
ness the next return of the era we this day celebrate ! 
The dark veil of futurity conceals from human sight the 
fate of cities and nations, as well as of individuals. Man 

10 passes away; generations are but shadows; — there is 
nothing stable but truth : principles only are immortal. 

What, then, in conclusion of this great topic, are the 
elements of the liberty, prosperity, and safety, which the 



226 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ek. 31. 

inhabitants of New England at this clay enjdy? In what 

15 language, and concerning what comprehensive truths, 
does the wisdom of former times address the inexperience 
of the future % 

Those elements are simple, obvious, and familiar. 
Every civil and religious blessing of New England, all 

20 that here gives happiness to human life, or security to 
human virtue, is alone to be perpetuated in the forms and 
under the auspices of a free commonwealth. 

The commonwealth itself has no other strength or 
hope, than the intelligence and virtue of the individuals 

25 that compose it. 

For the intelligence and virtue of individuals, there is 
no other human assurance than laws, providing for the 
education of the whole people. 

These laws themselves have no strength, or efficient 

30 sanction, except in the moral and accountable nature of 
man, disclosed in the records of the Christian's faith; 
the right to read, to construe, and to judge concerning 
which, belongs to no class or cast of men, but exclusively 
to the individual, who must stand or fall by his own acts 

85 and his own faith, and not by those of another. 

The great comprehensive truths, written in letters of 
living light on every page of our history, — the language 
addressed by every past age of New England to all future 
ages is this : — Human happiness has no perfect security 

40 but freedom ; — freedom none but virtue ; — virtue none 
but knoicledge ; — and neither freedom, nor virtue, nor 
knowledge has any vigor, or immortal hope, except in the 
principles of the Christian faith, and in the sanctions of 
the Christian religion. 

45 Men of Massachusetts ! Citizens of Boston ! descend- 
ants of the early emigrants! consider your blessings; 
consider your duties. You have an inheritance acquired 
by the labors and sufferings of six successive generations 
of ancestors. They founded the fabric of your prosper- 

50 ity, in a severe and masculine morality; having intel- 
ligence for its cement, and religion for its ground-work, 
Continue to build on the same foundation, and by the 
same principles; let the extending temple of your coun- 
try's freedom rise, in the spirit of ancient times, in pro- 

55 portions of intellectual and moral architecture, — -just, 
simple, and sublime. As from the first to this day, lei 



15 



Ex. 81, 82] EXERCISES. PART II. 227 

New England continue to be an example to the world, 
of the blessings of a free government, and of the means 
and capacity of man to maintain it. And, in all times 
60 to come, as in all times past, may Boston be among the 
foremost and boldest to exemplify and uphold whatever 
constitutes the prosperity, the happiness, and the glory of 
New England. 



Exercise 82. 

The Sabbath School Teacher. — James. 

My fancy has sometimes presented me with this pic- 
ture of a faithful Sabbath school teacher's entrance to the 
state of her everlasting rest. The agony of dissolution 
is closed, the triumph of faith completed, and the con- 
5 quering spirit hastens to her crown. 

Upon the confines of the heavenly world, a form di- 
vinely fair awaits her arrival. Wrapt in astonishment at 
the dazzling glory of this celestial inhabitant, and as yet 
a stranger in the world of spirits, she inquires, M Is this 

10 Gabriel, chief of all the heavenly hosts, and am I honored 
with his aid to guide me to the throne of God ?" 

With a smile of ineffable delight, such as gives fresh 
beauty to an angel's countenance, the mystic form replies, 
Dost thou remember little Elizabeth, who was in yonder 

15 world a Sunday scholar in thy class ? Dost thou recollect 
the child who wept as thou talkedst to her of sin, and di- 
rected her to the cross of the dying Redeemer? God 
smiled with approbation upon thy effort, and by his own 
Spirit sealed the impression upon her heart in characters 

20 never to be effaced. 

Providence removed her from beneath thy care, before 
the fruit of thy labor was visible. The seed, however, 
had taken root, and it was the business of another to wa- 
ter what thou didst sow. Cherished by the influence of 

15 Heaven, the plant of religion flourished in her heart, and 
shed its fragrance upon her character. 

Piety, after guarding her from the snares of youth, 
cheered her amidst the accumulated trials of an afflicted 
life, supported her amidst the agonies of her last conflict, 

)0 and elevated her to the mansions of immortality : and 
now behold before thee the glorified spirit of that poor 



228 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 82, 83. 

child, who, under God, owes the eternal life on which 
she had lately entered, to thy faithful labors in the Sunday 
School; and who is now sent by our Redeemer to intro- 

35 duce thee to the world of glory, as thy first and least re- 
ward for guiding the once thoughtless, ignorant, wicked 
Elizabeth to the world of grace. Hail, happy spirit! 
Hail, favored of the Lord ! Hail, deliverer of my soul ! 
Hail to the world of eternal glory ! 

40 I can trace the scene no further. I cannot paint the 
raptures produced in the honored teachers bosom by this 
unexpected interview. I cannot depict the mutual grati- 
tude and love of two such spirits meeting on the confines 
of heaven ; much less can I follow them to their ever- 

45 lasting mansion, and disclose the bliss which they shall 
enjoy before the throne of God. All this, and a thousand 
times more, is attendant upon the salvation of one single 
soul. Teachers, what a motive to diligence ! 



Exercise 83. 

Motives of the Gospel. — Dwight. 

To this divine, this indispensable employment, every 
motive calls you, which can reach the heart of virtue, or 
wisdom. The terms, on which these blessings of the Gos- 
pel are offered, are of all terms the most reasonable. 
5 You are summoned to no sacrifice, but of sin, and shame, 
and wretchedness. No service is demanded of you, but 
services of gain and glory. "My son, give me thine 
heart" is the requisition, which involves them all. 

Remember how vast, how multiplied, how noble these 

10 blessings are ! Remember, that the happiness of heaven 
is not only unmingled, and consummate ; not only un- 
interrupted, and immortal : but ever progressive. 

To this scene of glory, all things continually urge you. 
The seasons roll on their solemn course. The earth 

15 yields its increase, to furnish blessings to support you. 
Mercies charm you to their author. Afflictions warn 
you of approaching ruin; and drive you to the ark o\ 
safety. Magistrates uphold order, and peace, that you 
may consecrate your labors to the divine attainment. 

20 Ministers proclaim to you the glad tidings of great joy > 
and point out to you the path to heaven. The Sabbat}; 



Ex. 83.] EXERCISES. PART II. 229 

faithfully returns its mild and sweet seasons of grace. *hat 
earthly objects may not engross your thoughts, and >re- 
vent your attention to immortality. The sanctuary \ n- 

25 folds its doors ; and invites you to enter in and be save. 1 . 
The Gospel still siiines to direct your feet, and to quick* 
en your pursuit of the inestimable prize. 

Saints wait, with fervent hope of renewing their joy 
over your repentance. Angels spread their wings to 

30 conduct you home. The Father holds out the golden 
sceptre of forgiveness, that you may touch, and live. 
The Son died on the cross, ascended to heaven, and in 
tercedes before the throne of mercy, that you may be ac- 
cepted. The Spirit of grace and truth descends with his 

35 benevolent influence, to allure and persuade you. 

While all things, and God at the head of all things, 
are thus kindly, and solemnly employed, to encourage 
you in the pursuit of this inestimable good, will you 
forget, that you have souls, which must be saved or lost? 

40 Will you forget, that the only time of salvation is the 
present ? that beyond the grave there is no Gospel to be 
preached ? that, there no offers of life are to be made ! 
that no Redeemer will there expiate your sins; and no 
forgiving God receive your souls? 

45 Of what immense moment, then, is the present life ! 
How invaluable every Sabbath; every mean of salva- 
tion ! Think how soon your last Sabbath will set in 
darkness ; and the last sound of mercy die upon your 
ears? How painful, how melancholy, an object, to a 

50 compassionate eye, is a blind unfeeling, unrepenting im- 
mortal ! 

See the gates of life already unfolding to admit you. 
The firs'-born open their arms to welcome you to their 
divine assembly. The Saviour, who is gone before to 

55 prepare a place for your reception, informs you, that all 
things are ready. With triumph, then, with ecstasy, 
hasten to enjoy the reward of his infinite labors in an 
universe of good, and in the glory, which he had with 
the Father before ever the world was. 

20 



230 EXERCISES. FART II. [Ex. 84 



Exercise '84. 
Character of Richard Reynolds. — Tkorpe. 
Look at mighty Athens, and you will every where 
perceive monuments of taste, and genius, and eleganct t 
Look at imperial, Pagan Rome in all her glory ! You 
will behold all the grandeur of the human intellect un~ 
5 folded in her temples, her palaces, and her amphitheatres. 
You will find no hospital or infirmary ; no asylum for 
the aged and the infirm, the fatherless and the widow ; 
the blind, the dumb, the deaf; the outcast and the des- 
titute. 
' ! How vastly superior in this respect is Bristol to Ath- 
ens, is London to Rome. These, Christianity, are 
thy triumphs ! These are thy lovely offspring ! they all 
bear the lineaments of their common parent. Their 
family likeness proves the sameness of their origin. 
15 Mercy conjoined with purity is the darling attribute of 
our holy religion. 

Its great founder was mercy embodied in a human 

form. Those virtues which shone in him shone in 

Reynolds also ; though with a diminished lustre, when 

20 compared with his great original : — yet in a brighter 

lustre than in the rest of mankind. 

But whence, it may be demanded, came it to pass that 
this man rose so high, above the great mass of pro- 
fessed Christians ? The answer is obvious. The great 
25 mass of professed Christians are Christians only by pro- 
fession. Reynolds was a Christian in reality. His 
Christianity was cordial — ardent — energetic. Not an 
empty name — a barren speculation ; but a vital principle. 
Vital Christianity is not so much a solitary beauty, as 
30 it is an assemblage of all beauty. 

It combines the wisdom of the serpent, with the inno- 
cence of the dove; the gentleness of the lamb, with the 
courage of the lion. It adds a charm to the bloom of 
youth, and converts the hoary head into a crown of 
35 glory. It gives dignity to the palace, and brings heaven 
into the cottage. The king upon the throne is not so 
venerable by the crown that encircles his brow, as by 
the religion that renders him the father of his people, 
and the obedient servant of the Sovereign of the world. 



ex. 85.] exercises. fart ii. 231 

Exercise 85 

Address of the Bible Society, — 1816. — Mason. 

People of the United States — 

Have you ever been invited to an enterprise of such 
grandeur and glory ? Do you not value the Holy Scrip- 
tures? Value them as containing your sweetest hope; 
your most thrilling joy ! Can you submit to the thought 
5 that you should be torpid in your endeavours to disperse 
them, while the rest of Christendom is awake and alert ! 

Shall you hang back, in heartless indifference, when 
princes come down from their thrones, to bless the cottage 
of the poor with the gospel of peace ; and imperial so- 

10 vereigns are gathering their fairest honours from spread- 
ing abroad the oracles of the Lord your God ? Is it possi- 
ble that you should not see, in this state of human things, 
a mighty motion of Divine Providence ? 

The most heavenly charity treads close upon the 

15 march of conflict and blood! The world is at peace! 
Scarce has the soldier time to unbind his helmet, and to 
wipe away the sweat from his brow, ere the voice ot 
mercy succeeds to the clarion of battle, and calls the 
nations from enmity to love ! Crowned heads bow to the 

20 head that is to wear " many crowns ," and, for the first 
time since the promulgation of Christianity, appear to 
act in unison for the recognition of its gracious princi- 
ples, as being fraught alike with happiness to man and 
honor to God. 

25 What has created so strange, so beniflcent an alteration % 
This is no doubt the doing of the Lord, and it is marvel- 
lous in our eyes. But what instrument has he thought 
fit chiefly to use? That which contributes, in all latitudes 
and climes, to make Christians feel their unity, to rebuke 

30 the spirit of strife, and to open upon them the day of bro- 
therly concord — the Bible ! the Bible ' — through Bible 
Societies ! 

Come then, fellow citizens, fellow Christians, let us 
join in the sacred covenant. Let no heart be cold; no 

35 hand be idle: no purse reluctant! Come, while room is 
left for us in the ranks whose toil is. goodness, and whose 
recompense is victory. Come cheerfully, eagerly, gen- 
erally. 



232 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 86. 

Exercise 86. 

The Roman Soldier ; — Last days of Herculaneum. 
Atherstone. 

Part I. 

There was a man, 
A Roman Soldier, for some daring deed 
That trespassed on the laws, in dungeon low 
Chained down. His was a noble spirit, rough, 
5 But generous, and brave, and kind. 
He had a son, it was a rosy boy, 
A little faithful copy of his sire 
In face and gesture. From infancy the child 
Had been his father's solace and his care. 
10 Every sport 

The father shared and heightened. But at length 
The rigorous law had grasped him, and condemned 
To fetters and to darkness. 

The captive's lot 

15 He felt in all its bitterness : — the walls 

Of his deep dungeon answered many a sigh 

And heart-heaved groan. His tale was known, a ad 

touched 
His jailer with compassion ; — and the boy, 

20 Thenceforth a frequent visitor, beguiled 

His father's lingering hours, and brought a balm 
With his loved presence that in every wound 
Dropt healing. But in this terrific hour 
He w r as a poisoned arrow in the breast 

25 Where he had been a cure. — 

With earliest morn, 
Of that first day of darkness and amaze, 
He came. The iron door was closed, — for them 
Never to open more! The day, the night, 

30 Dragged slowly by ; nor did they know the fate 
Impending o'er the city. Well they heard 
The pent-up thunders in the earth beneath, 
And felt its giddy rocking ; and the air 
Grew hot at length, and thick ; but in his straw 

35 The boy was sleeping : and the father hoped 



Ex. 86.] EXERCISES. PART II. 233 

The earthquake might pass by ; nor would he wake 
From his sound rest the unfearing child, nor tell 
The dangers of their state. ( ) On his low couch 
The fettered soldier sunk — and with deep awe 

*0 Listened the fearful sounds : — with upturned eye 

To the great gods he breathed a prayer; — then strove 
, To calm himself, and lose in sleep awhile 
His useless terrors. But he could not sleep :— 
His body burned with feverish heat; — his chains 

15 Clanked loud although he moved not: deep inearth 
Groaned unimaginable thunders : — sounds, 
Fearful and ominuus, arose and died, 
Like the sad moanings of November's wind, 
In the blank midnight. ( •• ) Deepest horror chilled 

50 His blood that burned before; cold clammy sweats 
Came o'er him : — (==) then anon a fiery thrill 
Shot through his veins. Now on his couch he shrunk, 
And shivered as in fear: — now upright leaped, 
As though he heard the battle trumpet sound, 

55 And longed to cope with death. 

He slept at last, 
A troubled, dreamy sleep. Well, — had he slept 
Never to waken more! His hours are few, 
But terrible his agony. 

Part II. 

Soon the storm 
Burst fortn : the li^htnin^s glanced : — the air 
Shook with the thunders. They awoke ; they sprung 
Amazed upon their feet. The dungeon glowed 

5 A moment as in sunshine, — and was dark: — 
Again a flood of white flame fills the cell ; 
Dying away upon the dazzled eye 
In darkening, quivering tints, as stunning sound 
Dies throbbing, ringing in the ear. Silence, 

10 And blackest darkness. — With intensest awe 

The soldier's frame was filled ; and many a thought 
Of strange foreboding hurried through his mind, 
As underneath he felt the fevered earth 
Jarring and lifting — and the massive walls 

15 Heard harshly grate and strain : — yet knew he not, 
While evils undefined and yet to come 
2b* 



234 EXERCISES. PART Kj» [Ex. 86 

Glanced through his thoughts, what deep and cureless 

wound 
Fate had already given. — Where, man of wo ! 
20 Where wretched father ! is thy boy ? Thou callest 
His name in vain : — he cannot answer thee. — 

Loudly the father called upon his child : — 
No voice replied. Trembling and anxiously 
He searched their couch of straw: — with headlong haste 

25 Trod round his stinted limits, and, low bent, 

Groped darkling on the earth : — -no child was there. 

Again he called : — again, at farthest stretch 

Of his accursed fetters, — till the blood 

Seemed bursting from his ears, and from his eyes 

30 Fire flashed, — he strained with arm extended far, 
And fingers widely spread, greedy to touch 
Though but his idol's garment. Useless toil ! 
Yet still renewed: — still round and round he goes, 
And strains, and snatches, — and with dreadful cries 

35 Calls on his boy. Mad frenzy fires him now: 
He plants against the wall his feet ; — his chain 
Grasps; — tugs with giant strength to force away 
The deep-driven staple : — yells and shrieks with rage 
And, like a desert lion in the snare 

40 Raging to break his toils, — to and fro bounds. 
But see! the ground is opening : — a blue light 
Mounts, gently waving, — noiseless : — thin and cold 
It seems, and like a rainbow tint, not flame; 
But by its lustre, on the earth outstretched. 

45 Behold the lifeless child ! — his dress is singed, 
And o 7 er his face serene a darken' d line 
Points out the lightning's track. 

The father saw, — 
And all his fury fled : — a dead calm fell 
50 That instant on him : — speechless, fixed he stood, 
And with a look that never wandered, gazed 
Intensely on the corse. Those laughing eyes 
Were not yet closed, — and round those ruby lips 
The wonted smile returned. 

55 Silent and pale 

The father stands : — no tear is in his eye : — 
The thunders bellow — but he hears them not : — 



Ex. 86, 87.] EXERCISES. PART II. 235 

The ground lifts like a sea: — he knows it not : — 
The strong walls grind and gape : — the vaulted roof 
60 Takes shapes like bubble tossing in the wind : — 
See ! he looks up and smiles ; — for death to him 
Is happiness. Yet could one last embrace 
Be given, 'twere still a sweeter thing to die. 

It will be given. Look ! how the rolling ground, 

65 At every swell, nearer and still more near 

Moves towards the father's outstretched arm his boy ;— 
Once he has touched his garment ; — how his eye 
Lightens with love — and hope — and anxious fears ! 
Ha ! see ! he has him now ! — he clasps him round — 

70 Kisses his face ; — puts back the curling locks, 
That shaded his fine brow: — looks in his eyes — 
Grasps in his own those little dimpled hands — 
Then folds him to his breast, as he was wont 
To lie when sleeping — and resigned awaits 

75 Undreaded death. 

And death came soon, and swift, 
,Vnd pangless. 

The huge pile sunk down at once 
Into the opening earth. ( •• ) Walls — arches — roof— 

80 And deep foundation stones — all •• mingling •• fell ! 



Exercise 87. 
The Orphan Boy. — Mrs. Opie. 

1 Stay, lady — stay, for mercy's sake, 

And hear a helpless orphan's tale: 
Ah, sure my looks must pity wake — 

'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale! 
Yet I was once a mother's pride, 

And my brave father's hope and joy: 
But in the Nile's proud fight he died — 

And I am now an orphan boy ! 

2 Poor, foolish child! how pleased was I 

When news of Nelson's victory came, 
Along the crowded streets to fly, 

To see the lighted windows flame ! 
To force me home my mother sought — 



2?6 exercises. — part ii. [Ex. 87, 88 

She could not bear to see my joy ! 
For with my father's life 'twas bought — 
And made me a poor orphan boy ! 

3 The people's shouts were long and loud ! 

My mother, shuddering, closed her ears ; 
" Rejoice ! rejoice !" still cried the crowd — 

My mother answered with her tears ! 
" Oh ! why do tears steal down your cheeks," 

Cried I, " while others shout for joy !" 
She kissed me, and in accents weak, 

She called me her 'poor orphan boy J 

4 " What is an orphan boy?" I said ; 

When suddenly she gasped for breath, 
And her eyes closed ; I shrieked for aid : — 

But, ah ! her eyes were closed in death ! 
My hardships since I will not tell : 

But now no more a parent's joy; 
Ah ! lady, I have learned too well 

What 'tis to be an orphan boy. 



Exercise 88. 

Christian Consolation. — A n o n y m o its. 

[The annexed feeling and beautiful lines are said to have beeL vrit 
ten by a young English lady, who had experienced much affliction.] 

1 Jesus — I my cross have taken, 

All to leave and follow thee, 
Naked, poor, despised, forsaken — 

Thou, from hence, my all shalt be ! 
Perished every fond ambition — 

All I've sought, or hoped, or known, 
Yet how rich is my condition — 

God and heaven are ail my own ! 

2 Go, then, earthly fame and treasure — 

Come disaster, scorn, and pain; 
In thy service, pain is pleasure, 

With thy favor, loss is gain ; 
I have called thee Abba Father — 

I have set my heart on thee j 



Ex. 88, 89.] EXERCISES. PART II. 237 

Storms may howl, and clouds may gather — 
All must work for good to me ! 

3 Soul ! then know thy full salvation — 

Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care; 
Joy to find in every station 

Something still to do or bear ! 
Think, what spirit dwells within thee — 

Think what heavenly bliss is thine ; 
Think that Jesus died to save thee — 

Child of Heaven — canst thou repine 1 

4 Haste thee on, from grace to glory, 

Armed by faith, and wing'd by prayer — 
Heaven's eternal day 's before thee — 

God's own hand shall guide thee there. 
Soon shall close thy earthly mission ! 

Soon shall pass thy pilgrim-days, 
Hope shall change to glad fruition — 

Faith to sight, and prayer to praise. 



Exercise 89. 
Cruelty to Animals. — Cowper. 

I would not enter on my list of friends, 

(Though grac'd with polish' d manners and fine senses 

Yet wanting sensibility,) the man 

Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. 
5 An inadvertent step may crush the snail, 

That craw T ls at evening in the public path; 

But he that has humanity, forewarn'd, 

Will tread aside, and let the reptile live. 

The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight, 
i0 And charg'd perhaps with venom, that intrudes 

A visitor unwelcome into scenes 

Sacred to neatness and repose, th' alcove, 

The chamber, or refectory, may die. 

A necessary act incurs no blame. 
15 Not so, when held w 7 ithin their proper bounds, 

A.id guiltless of offence they range the air, 

Or take their pastime in the spacious field. 



238 EXERCISES. PART n. [Ex. 89, 90. 

There they are privileg'd. And he that hurts 

Or harms them there, is guilty of a wrong; 
20 Disturbs the economy of nature's realm, 

Who when she form'd, designed them an abode. 

The sum is this: if man's convenience, health, 

Or safety, interfere, his rights and claims 

Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs. 
25 Else they are all — the meanest things that are, 

As free to live and to enjoy that life, 

As God was free to form them at the first, 

Who in his sovereign wisdom, made them all. 

Ye, therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons 
30 To love it too. The spring time of our years 

Is soon dishonor 7 d and defU'd, in most, 

By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand 

To check them. But, alas ! none sooner shoots, 

If unrestrain'd, into luxuriant growth, 
35 Than cruelty, most devilish of them all. 

Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule 

And righteous limitation of its act, 

By which Heav'n moves in pard'ning guilty man 

And he that shows none, being ripe in years, 
40 And conscious of the outrage he commits, 

Shall seek it, and not find it in his turn. 



Exercise 90. 

Christianity. — Mason. 

The cardinal fact of Christianity, without which all 
her other facts lose their importance, is the resurrection, 
from the dead, of a crucified Saviour, as the prelude, 
the pattern, and the pledge of the resurrection of his 
5 followers to eternal life. Against this great fact the 
"children of disobedience?" have levelled their batteries. 
One assails its proof; another its reasonableness; all, 
its truth. When Paul asserted it before an audience of 
Athenian philosophers, " some mocked' 7 — a short method 
10 of refuting the Gospel; and likely, from its convenience, 
to continue in favor and in fashion. 

Yet with such doctrines and facts did the religion of 
Jesus make her way through the world. Against the 



Ex. 90.] EXERCISES. PART II. 239 

superstition of the multitude — against the interest, in- 

15 fluence, and craft of their priesthood — against the ridi- 
cule of wits, the reasoning of sages, the policy of cab- 
inets, and the prowess of armies — against the axe, the 
cross, and the stake, she extended her conquests from 
Jordan to the Thames. She gathered her laurels alike 

20 upon the snows of Scythia, the green fields of Europe, 
and the sands of Africa. The altars of impiety crum- 
bled befoie her march — the glimmer of the schools dis- 
appeared in her light — Power felt his arm wither at her 
glance ; and, in a short time, she who went, forlorn and 

25 insulted, from the hill of Calvary to the tomb of Joseph, 
ascended the Imperial throne, and waved her banner 
over the palace of the Caesars. Her victories were not 
less benign than decisive. They were victories over all 
that pollutes, degrades, and ruins -man ; in behalf of all 

30 that purifies, exalts, and saves him. They subdued his 
understanding to truth, his habits to rectitude, his heart to 
happiness. 

The disregard which some of old affected to whatever 
goes by the name of evil ; the insensibility of others 

35 who yield up their souls to the power of fatalism ; and 
the artificial gaiety which has, occasionally, played the 
comedian about the dying bed of " philosophy, falsely 
so called," are outrages upon decency and nature. 
Death destroys both action and enjoyment — mocks at 

40 wisdom, strength, and beauty — disarranges our plans — 
robs us of our treasures — desolates our bosoms — breaks 
our heart-strings — blasts our hope. Death extinguishes 
the glow of kindness — abolishes the most tender rela- 
tions of man — severs him from all that he knows and loves 

45 — subjects him to an ordeal which thousands of millions 
have passed, but none can explain ; and which will be as 
new to the last who gives up the ghost, as it was to mur- 
dered Abel — flings him, in fine, without any avail from 
the experience of others, into a state of untried being. No 

50 wonder that nature trembles before it. Reason justifies 
the fear. Religion never makes light of it: and he who 
does, instead of ranking with heroes, can hardly deserve 
to rank with a brute. 

What have unbelievers to gild their evening hour, to 

55 bind up their aching head, to soothe their laboring 
heart ? What living hope descends from heaven to 



240 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 90, 91 

smile on the sinking features, whisper peace to the re- 
tiring spirit, and announce to the sad surrounding rela- 
tives that all is well ? There is none ! Astonishment, 

60 dismay, melancholy boding, are the "portion of their 
cup." Sit down, ye unhappy, in the desolation of grief. 
Consolation heard the voice of your weeping: she has- 
tened to your door, but started back affrighted ; her 
commission extends not to your house of mourning; ye 

65 have no hope ! 



Exercise 91. 

Character of Mrs. Graham. — Mason. 

Recall the example of Mrs. Graham. Here was a 
woman — a widow — a stranger in a strange land — with- 
out fortune — with no friends but such as her letters of 
introduction and her worth should acquire — and with a 
5 family of daughters dependent upon her for their sub- 
sistence. Surely if any one has a clear title of immuni- 
ty from the obligation to carry her cares beyond the 
domestic circle, it is this widow; it is this stranger. 
Yet within a few years this stranger, this widow, with 

10 no means but her excellent sense, her benevolent heart, 
and her persevering will to do good, awakens the chari- 
ties of a populous city, and gives to them an impulse, a 
direction, and an efficacy, unknown before ! What 
might not be done by men ; by men of talent, of stand- 

15 ing, of wealth, of leisure? How speedily, under their 
well-directed beneficence, might a whole country change 
its physical, intellectual, and moral aspect ; and assume, 
comparatively speaking, the face of another Eden — a 
second garden of God ? Why then do they not diffuse, 

20 thus extensively, the seeds of knowledge, of virtue, and 
of bliss % I ask not for their pretences ; they are as old 
as the lust of lucre ; and are refuted by the example which 
we have been contemplating — I ask for the true reason, 
for the inspiring principle of their conduct. It is this — 

25 let them look to it when God shall call them to account 
for the abuse of their time, their talents, their station, their 
"unrighteous mammon." — It is this :'They believe not "the 
words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed 
to give than to receive." They labor under no want but 

30 one — they want the heart ! 



Ex 9i, 92.] EXERCISES. TART II. 241 

That venerable mother in Israel, who has exchanged 
?he service of God on earth for his services in heaven, 
has left a legacy to her sisters — she has left the example 
of her faith and patience; she has left her prayers; she 

35 has left the monument of her Christian deeds : and by 
these she " being dead yet speaketh." Matrons ! has she 
left her mantle also ? Are there none among you to hear 
her voice from the tomb, "Go and do thou likewise?" 
None whom affluence permits, endowments qualify, an •.. 

40 piety prompts, to aim at her distinction by treading in her 
steps ? Maidens ' Are there none among you, who would 
wish to array yourselves hereafter in the honours of this 
"virtuous woman?" Your hearts have dismissed their 
wonted warmth and generosity, if they do not throb as 

45 the reverend vision rises before you — then prepare your- 
selves now, by seeking and serving the God of her 
youth. 

Yea, let me press upon all who hear me this evening, 
the transcendent excellence of Christian character, and 

50 the victorious power of Christian hope. The former 
bears the image of God; the latter is as imperishable as 
his throne. We fasten our eyes with more real respect, 
and more heart-felt approbation upon the moral majesty 
displayed in "walking as Christ also w r alked," than up- 

55 on all the pomps of the monarch, or decorations of the 
military hero. More touching to the sense, and more 
grateful to high heaven, is the soft melancholy with - 
which we look after our departed friend, and the tear 
which embalms her memory, than the thundering plau- 

*90 dits which rend the air with the name of a conqueror. 
She has obtained a triumph over that Foe who shall 
break the arm of valour, and strike off the crown of 
kin^s. 



Exercise 92. 

Living to God. — Griffin. 

The heart-breaking necessities of a world ought to 

rouse us from our selfish stupor. To say nothing of 

the multitudes who are swarming the w*.y to death in 

the most favoured regions; to say nothing of whole na- 

5 tjons in the Romish and Greek Churches, who, though 

21 



242 EXERCISES. rART II. [Ex. 92. 

they bear the Christian name, are apparently living with- 
out God in the world ; to say nothing of hundreds of 
thousands of nominal Christians, scattered through Asia 
and Africa, who scarcely retain any thing of Christianity 

10 but the name ; to say nothing of three millions of Jews , 
it is a distressing truth that more than two thirds of the 
population of the globe are still buried under Pagan or 
Mahometan darkness, and are as abominably wicked as 
sin can make them. 

15 While I am speaking they are bursting forth to meet 
their doom. It certainly has become the duty of every 
person in a Gospel land to rack his invention, to devise 
means, and to strain the last nerve of his strength, to 
rescue those perishing nations, as he would to deliver 

20 his family from a burning house. O, if we loved those 
heathen as we do our children ! but we ought to love 
them as we love ourselves. Heretofore we knew not 
how it was possible to reach them ; but now a way is 
opened by which we may operate upon them, with as 

25 much ease as though they lived at our door. If we 
drop a dollar into the American Bible Society, it will 
turn to a Bible, and find its way to India, and will travel 
while we sleep. If we deposit another, it will become a 
Bible and make its way to South America, without post- 
30 age or risk. Thus God has opened a door by which we 
may pour upon the heathen the blessings of the Gospel 
as fast as we please, and need not be bounded by any 
other limit than our ability and inclination. One Bible 
will shed upon a benighted family a light which will ra- 

35 diate through a neighbourhood, and descend from gene- 
ration to generation. And who is too poor to give ? 
Bible? It has been computed by those who have pas- 
sed through our country, to search out its wants, that no 
less than five hundred thousand Bibles are wanted in 

40 the United States, to furnish each family with one, that 
each man may have a Bible to lie upon his dying pil- 
low. Do we hear this, and shall we sleep? There 
ought to be two Bible Societies, one of males and the 
other of females, formed in every town, and village, and j 

45 hamlet in America. And into one of these every per- 
son but actual paupers ought to come. Every hand in 
Christendom, but those which are stretched out for 
alms, ought to give one Bible a yea^ till the wants of 






Ex. 92, 93.] EXERCISES. PART II. 243 

world are supplied. It is a tax which the God of hea- 
50 ven has laid upon the whole population of Christian 
countries Let the labouring- poor work an hour longer 
each day, and retrench some unnecessary expenses, and 
they need not be excluded from this glorious work of 
regenerating a world. But the coffers of the rich — 
55 What has sealed the coffers of the rich? that they should 
roll in luxury and pave the way to their theatres with 
gold, when six or seven hundred millions of sinners are 
without a Bible ! There is superfluous wealth enough 
in a few of our cities and larger towns to convey the 
GO Gospel in a short time to every family on earth. God 
Almighty open their hearts that they may pour out their 
treasures by hundreds and by thousands, till the earth 
shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters 
cover the sea. 
65 My brethren, let us no longer live to ourselves. Let 
us arise and put our hands to the great work in which 
the nations are now moving. Wondrous thmgs are tak- 
ing place in the four quarters of the globe. The world 
is waking up after a long sleep, and is teeming with pro- 
70 jccts and efforts to extend the empire of truth and happi- 
ness. This is the day of which the prophets sung. Let 
us not sleep while all others are rousing themselves to 
action. Let every soul come up to the help of the Lord. 
Let not one be left behind. He that has absolutely no- 
lo thing to give, let him pray. Let no one be idle. This 
is a great day and the Lord requires every nand in the 
work. 



Exercise 93. 

Plea for Africa. — Griffin. 

It can no longer be made a question whether the ele- 
vation of the African race is a pan of the new order ol 
things. The providence of God has declared it. The 
Almighty Deliverer is already on his march to relieve 
5 the woes of Africa. Her resurrection is already stamped 
with the broad seal of heaven. Let all the nations behold 
the sign, and bow to the mandate of God. 

Ethiopia, shall stretch out her hands to God. Let 



244 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 93 

cruel and unbelieving minds raise up as many jeers and 

10 objections as they may, the thing icitl proceed. " for the 
mouth of the Lord hath spoken it." 

We have now arrived at the conclusion that a brighter 
day is arising on Africa. Already 1 seem to see her 
chains dissolved, — her desert plains turned into a fruit- 

15 ful field, — her Congo and her Senegal the seats of science 
and religion, reflecting the glory of the rising sun from 
the spires of their churches and universities, — her Gam- 
bia and Niger whitened with her floating commerce, 
her crowded cities sending forth the hum of business, — 

20 her poets and orators standing on the same shelf with 
Milton and Burke, — and all her sons employed in the 
songs of salvation. And when that day shall come, I 
am sure posterity will see the names of Clarkson, Sharp, 
Wilberforce, Thornton, and Gregoire, recorded on the 

25 cities and monuments of a grateful continent. 

We come to you this evening with our hands stretch- 
ed out in supplication for Africa, which, though dark 
her skin, is one of our own mother's children. We be- 
seech you by that mercy w r hich you hope to find, that 

30 you do not reject our suit. We beseech you by the 
tears which were once shed for you, that you aid us in 
wiping the tears of an oppressed race. I have no inten- 
tion to practise on your feelings. I know too well the 
piety and liberality of this metropolis. I only wish to 

35 spread the object before you in its own native for*.iS, — to 
lay open every wounded and aching part. I am sorry 
that I have not been able to do this w r ith more success. 
Your goodness will supply the rest. You mill furnish 
the Synod with means to prosecute their benevolent 

40 designs. 

Beloved brethren, to live in such a world and age as 
this, brings with it immense obligations; — the world of 
all others which the Son of God redeemed with blood ; 
— the age selected from all ages to be the season of his 

45 highest triumph and reward ; — the spot and time, among 
all. worlds and periods, most interesting to the eyes of 
heaven. To exist in such a day, is a privilege which 
kings and prophets desired, but were not permitted to 
enjoy. If ever the servants of God were " a flame of 

50 fire," this is the time to exhibit themselves such. You 
stand, my beloved brethren, under an opening heaven 



Ex 93, 94.] EXERCISES. PART 11. 245 

You stand by the tomb of a world rising from death. 
Be not stupid in such a day. Be not half awake. Let 
your soul stand erect, looking out for the approaching 

55 God. Let every nerve be strung to action. Great is the 
human effort which the day calls for; great will be the 
triumph which faith and patience will achieve. It is 
but " a little while, and he that shall come, w r ill come and 
will not tarry." For my part I would rather be one to 

60 follow the wheels of his victorious chariot, than to enjoy 
the triumphs of a Csesar. Let a prostrate world prepare 
to sing, " Hosanna to the Son of David ! blessed is 
he that cometh in the name of the Lord : hosanna in the 
highest !" 



Exercise 94. 

Abolition of the Slave Trade. — Christian Observer. 

1 Woe to the land, whose wealth proclaims 

Another land's undoing: 
Whose trophied column rises high, 

On robbery and ruin. 
Brittania saw with deep disdain, 
The foul reproach, the coward stain, 

The characters of blood ; 
She saw, and swept her shame away, 
While shouting round, in thick array, 

Her patriot champions stood. 

2 Proud was the morn whose early beams 

Saw Pitt and Fox uniting, 
And side by side, in holy band, 

Their country's battle fighting. 
Oh! if their spirits hover nigh, 
How shall they hail with rapture high, 

This day's revolving sun ; 
And hear our songs of triumph tell, 
The prize, for which they fought so well, 

The virtuous prize, is won! 

3 Let France of prostrate Europe tell, 

Exulting in her story ; 
The usurper shall unenvied stretch 



246 exercises. — part ii. [Ex. 94, 95 

The reign of guilty glory. 
His be the chaplet dropping gore, 
And his the red plume, waving o'er 

A bleeding people's wo. 
Scor.rge of the North, the South, the West ! 
The world, that bows at thy behest, 

The World is still thy foe. 

4 But thee, fair Daughter of the Seas, 

Are brighter days attending, 
And olive wreaths, with myrtle twined, 

Around thy sceptre blending. 
Though doomed perchance awhile to bear 
Thy blazing regis high in air ; 

Beneath that ample shade, 
Shall Europe's exiled virtue throng, 
And Africa, redeemed from wrong, 

Adore thy guardian aid. 

5 So shalt thou rest, through rolling years, 

Secure in heaven's alliance, 
And to a thousand circling foes 

Breathe oat a bold defiance. 
Her eagle wing shall Victory wave 
Around t#l arm that strikes to save; 

And Earth applauding, see 
The friend of every friendless name, 
Foremost in bliss, and strength, and fame, 

The Friend of Freedom, free. 



Exercise 95. 
Eliza. — Darwin. 
Now stood Eliza, on the wood-crown'd height, 
O'er Minden's plain, spectatress of the fight, 
Sought with bold eye, amid the bloody strife, 
Her dearer self, the partner of her life ; 
.From hill to hill the rushing host pursued, 
And viewed his banner, or, believed she viewed. 
Pleased with the distant roar, with quicker tread 
Fast by his hand, one lisping boy she led; 
And one fair girl, amid ihe loud alarm 
Slept on her kerchief, cradled by her arm ; 



Ex. 95] EXERCISES. PART II. 247 

While round her brows bright beams of honour dart, 
And love's warm eddies circle round her heart. 
— Near, and more near, the intrepid beauty pressed, 
Saw, through the driving smoke, his dancing crest* 

15 Heard the exulting shout, " They run ! they run P 

" Great God !" she cried, " he's safe ! the battle's won * ,: 
— A ball now hisses through the airy tides, 
(Some fury speeds it, and some demon guides !) 
Parts the fine locks, her graceful head that deck, 

20 Wounds her fair ear, and sinks into her neck ; 
The red stream issuing from her azure veins 
Dyes her white veil, her ivory bosom stains. — 
— u Ah me !" she cried, (and, sinking on the ground, 
Kissed her dear babes, regardless of the wound;) 

25 " Oh, cease not yet to beat, thou vital urn ! 

" Wait, gushing life, oh wait, my love's return ! 

" Hoarse barks the wolf, the vulture screams from far I 

" The angel, pity, shuns the walks of war! — 

" Oh spare, ye war hounds, spare their tender age! — 

30 " On me, on me," she cried, "exhaust your rage!" 
Then with weak arms, her weeping babes caressed, 
And, sighing, hid them in her blood-stained Yest 

From tent to tent the impatient warrior flies, 
(Fear in his heart, and frenzy in his eyes:) 

35 Eliza's name along the camp he calls, 

Eliza ! echoes through the canvass walls ; 

Quick through the murmuring gloom, his footsteps tread 

O'er groaning heaps, the dying and the dead, 

Vault o'er the plain, and, in the tangled wood, — 

40 Lo ! dead Eliza, weltering in her blood ! 

— Soon hears his listening son the welcome sounds, 
With open arms and sparkling eyes he bounds, — 
" Speak low," he cries, and gives his little hand, 
•'Eliza sleeps, upon the dew-cold sand." 

45 Poor weeping babe, with bloody fingers pressed 
And tried, with pouting lips, her milkless breast. 
" Alas ! we both with cold and hunger quake — 
" Why do you weep? — Mamma will soon awake." 
— " She '11 wake no more !" the hopeless mourner cried, 

50 Upturned his eyes, and clasped his hands, and sighed; 
Stretched on the ground awhile entranced he lay, 
And pressed warm kisses on the lifeless clay ; 
And then upsprung, with wild convulsive start, 



248 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 95, 96. 

And, all the father kindled in his heart: 
55 " O, Heavens i" he cried, " my first rash vow forgive ! 
" These bind to earth, for these I pray to live!" 
Round hio chill babes he wrapped his crimson vest 
And clasped them, sobbing, to his aching breast. 



Exercise 96. 

Character of Mr. Brougham. — Anonymous. 

Brougham, is a thunderbolt. He may come in the 
dark, he may come at random, his path may be in the 
viewless and graspless air ; but still, give him something 
solid, let him come in contact with the earth, and, be it 
5 beautiful or barren, it feels the power of his terrible visi- 
tation. You see not, or rather you heed not, the agent 
which works: but, just as when the arch-giant of phy- 
sical destroyers rends his way, you see the kingdoms of 
nature yielding at his approach, and the mightiest of their 

10 productions brushed aside as though they were dust, or 
tora as though they were gossamer 

While he raises his voice in the house — while he 
builds fin*.!/ and broadly the bf ses of nis own proposi- 
tions, and snatches from every science a beam to enlarge 

15 and strengthen his work ; and while hejj^dignantly beats 
down and tramples upon all that has been reared by his 
antagonist, you feel as if the wind of annihilation Were 
in his hand, and the power of destruction in his posses- 
sion. 

20 There cannot be a greater treat than to hear Brough- 
am upon one of those questions which give scope for the 
mighty swell of his mind, and which permit him to 
launch the bolts of that tremendous sarcasm, for which 
he has not now, and perhaps never had, an equal in the 

25 house. When his display is a reply, you see his long 
and lathy figure drawn aside from others, and coiled up 
within itself like a snake, and his eyes glancing from 
under the slouched hat, as fiery and as fatal as those of 
the basilisk ; you mark the twin demons of irony and 

30 contempt, playing about the tense and compressed line of 
his mouth. 

Up rises the orator, slowly and clumsily. His body, 
swung into an attitude which is none of the most grace- 



Ex. ( J6 J EXERCISES. PART II. 249 

ful. His long* and sallow visage seems lengthened and 

35 deepened in its hue. His eyes, his nose, and mouth 
seem huddled together, as if, while he presses every il- 
lustration into his speech, he were at the same time 
condensing all his senses into one. There is a lower- 
ing sublimity in his brows, which one seldom sees equal- 

40 led ; and the obliquity of the light shows the organiza- 
tion of the upper and lateral parts of his forehead, proud 
and palpable as the hills of his native north. His left 
hand is extended with the palm, prepared as an anvil, 
upon which he is ever and anon to hammer, with the 

45 fort finger of - his right, as the preparation to that full 
swing which is to give life to every muscle, and motion 
to every limb. He speaks ! In the most powerful and 
sustained, and at the same time, the most close, clear 
and logical manner, does he demolish the castle which 

50 his opponent had built for himself. You have the sounds, 
you see the flash, you look for the castle, and it is not. 
Stone after stone, turret after turret, battlement after 
battlement, and wing after wing, are melted away, and 
nothing left, save the sure foundation, upon which the 

55 orator himself may build. There are no political bowels 
in him. He gives no quarter, and no sooner has he 
razed the fort, than he turns him to torture the garrison. 
It is now that his mock solemnity is something more 
terrible than the satire of Canning, the glow of Burdett, 

60 or the glory of Mackintosh. His features, (which are 
always grave) assume the very depth of solemnity; and 
his voice (which is always solemn) falls into that under 
sopraw ^(that visionary tone between speech and whis- 
per) which men employ when they speak of their own 

C5 graves, and coffins. You would imagine it not audible, 
and yet its lowest syllable runs through the house like 
wild -fire. You would think it meant only for the ear of 
him who is the subject of it, yet it comes immediately, 
and powerfully, and without the possibility of being for- 

70 gotten, to every one within the walls. You would think 
it the fond admonition of a sainted father to the errors 
of a beloved son ; and yet, it has in reality more of that 
feeling which the Devil is said to exercise, when he acts 
as the accuser of the brethren. — You may push aside 

75 the bright thing which raises a laugh ; you may find a 
cover from the wit which ambles to you on antithesis 



250 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 96, 97. 

or quotation ; but against the home reproof of Brougham 
there is no defence ; its course is so firm thL. you cannot 
dash it aside. 



Exercise 97. 

Character of Mr. Wilberforce. — Anonymous. 

The speeches of Mr. Wilberforce, are among the very 
few good things now remaining in the British Parliament : 
his diction is elegant, rich, and spirited; his tones are 
so distinct and so melodious, that the most hostile ear 
5 hangs on them delighted. Then his address is so in- 
sinuating, that if he talked nonsense, you would feel 
yourself obliged tc hear him. I recollect when the 
House had been tired night after night, with discussing 
the endless questions relating to Indian Policy, when the 

10 commerce and finances and resources of our oriental 
empire had exhausted the lungs of all the speakers, and 
the patience of all the auditors — at that period, Mr. 
Wilberforce, with a just confidence in his powers, ven- 
tured to broach the hackneyed subject of Hindoo con- 

15 version. He spoke three hours, but nobody seemed 
fatigued-? all, indeed, were pleased, some with the ingeni- 
ous artifices of his manner, but most with the glowing 
language of his heart. Much as I differed from him in 
opinion, it was impossible not to be delighted with his 

20 eloquence: and though I wish most heartily that the 
Hindoos might be left to their own trinity, yet 1 felt dis- 
posed to agree with him, that some good must arise to 
the human mind, by being engaged in a controversy 
which will exercise most of its faculties. Mr. Wilber- 

25 force is now verging towards age,* and speaks but sel- 
dom ; he, however, never speaks .without exciting a wish 
that he would say more ; he maintains, like Mr. Grat- 
tan, great respectability of character, by disdaining to 
mix in the daily paltry squabbles of party: he is no 

30 hunter after place. ##**#* 

I confess I always look with equal respect and pleasure 
on this eloquent veteran, lingering among his bustling, 

* Written in 1814 or 1815. 



Ex. 97, 98/ EXERCISES. PART II. 251 

but far inferior posterity; and well has he a right to 
linger on the spot where he achieved one of the greatest 

35 laurels that ever brightened in the wreath of fame: a 
laurel better than that of the hero, as it is not stained 
with blood or tears : better even than that of the states- 
man who improves the civilization of his country, inas- 
much as to create, is better than to improve. And the 

40 man whose labours abolished the Slave Trade, at one 
blow* struck away the barbarism of a hundred nations, 
and elevated myriads of human beings, degraded to the 
brute, into all the dignified capacities of civilized man. 
To have done this is the most noble, as it is the most 

45 useful work, which any individual could accomplish. 



Exercise 98. 

Eulogium on Mr. Fox. — Sheridan. 

Upon the one great subject, which, at this moment, I 

am confident has possession of the whole feelings of every 

man, whom I address — the loss, the irreparable loss, of 

the great, the illustrious character, whom we all deplore 

5 — I shall, I can say but little. # # # 

He died in the spirit of peace ; tranquil in his own expir- 
ing heart, and cherishing to the last, with a parental soli- 
citude, the consoling hope that he should be able to give 
established tranquillity to harassed, contending nations. 

10 Let us trust, that the stroke of death which hasborne him 
from us, may not have left the peace of the world, and 
the civilized charities of man, as orphans upon the earth. 
With such a man, to have battled in the cause of genuine 
liberty — with such a man, to have struggled against 

15 the inroads of oppression and corruption — with such 
an example before me, to have to boast that I never in 
my life gave one vote in parliament that was not on the 
side of freedom, is the congratulation that attends the 
retrospect of my public life. His friendship was the 

20 pride and honour of my days. I never, for one moment, 
regretted to share w 7 ith him the difficulties, the calum- 
nies, and sometimes even the dangers, that attended his 
honourable life. And now, reviewing my past political 
conduct, were the option possible that I should retread 

25 the path, I solemnly and deliberately declare, that I 



•252 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 98, 99. 

would pursue the same course — bear up under the same 
pressure — abide by the same principles — and remain by 
his side, an exile from power, distinction, and emolument ! 
If I have missed the opportunity, of obtaining- all the 

30 support, I might, perhaps, have had, on the present oc- 

, casion, from a very scrupulous delicacy, which I think 

became, and was incumbent upon me — I cannot repent it. 

In so doing, I acted on the feelings upon which 1 ^am 

sensible all those would have acted who loved Mr. Fox 

35 as I did. I felt within myself, that while the slightest 
aspirations might still quiver on those lips, that were the 
copious channels of eloquence, wisdom, and benevo- 
lence — that while one drop^ of life's blood might still 
warm that heart, which throbbed only for the good of 

40 mankind — I should not, I could not have acted other- 
wise. 

Gentlemen ; the hour is not far distant, when an awful 
knell shall tell you, that the unburied remains of your 
revered patriot are passing through your streets, to that 

45 sepulchral home where your kings — your heroes — your 
sages — and your poets, will be honoured by an association 
with his mortal remains. At that hour when the sad so- 
lemnity shall take place, in a private way, as more suited 
to the simple dignity of his character, than the splendid 

50 gaudiness of public pageantry; when you, all of you, 
shall be self-marshalled in reverential sorrow — mute, and 
reflecting on your mighty loss — at that moment shall the 
disgusting contest of an election-wrangle break the so- 
lemnity of such a scene ? Is it fitting that any man 

55 should overlook the crisis, and risk the monstrous and 
disgusting contest? Is it fitting that I should be that 
man? 



Exercise 99. 

Death of Sheridan. — Byron. 

The flash of wit — the bright intelligence, 
The beam of song — the blaze of eloquence, 
Set with their sun — but still have left behind 
The enduring produce of immortal mind; 
5 Fruits of a genial morn, and glorious noon, 
A deathless part of him who died too soon. 



Ex. 99.] EXERCISES. PART II. 253 

But small that portion of the wondrous whole, 

These sparkling segments of that circling soul, 

Which all embraced — and lightened over ail, 
10 To cheer — to pierce — to please — or to appal: 

From the charmed council to the festive board. 

Of human feelings the unbounded lord ; 

In whose acclaim the loftiest voices vied, 

The praised — the proud — who made his praise their pride 
15 When the loud x cry of trampled Hindustan 

Arose to Heaven in her appeal from man, 

His was the thunder — his the avenging rod, 

The wrath — the delegated voice of God ! 

Which shook the nations through his lips — and blazed, 
20 Till vanquished senates trembled as they praised. 

And here, oh! here, where yet all young and warm, 
The gay creations of his spirit charm, 
The matchless dialogue — the deathless wit, 
Which knew not w T hat it was to intermit ; 

25 The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring 

Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring, 

These wondrous beings of his fancy, wrought 

To fulness by the fiat of his thought, 

Here in their first abode, you still may meet 

30 Bright with the hues of his Promethean heat ; 
A halo of the light of other days, 
Which still the splendour of its orb betrays. 

Ye orators ! whom yet our councils yield, 

Mourn for the veteran hero of your field! 
35 The worthy rival of the wondrous three!* 

Whose words were sparks of immortality ! 

Ye Bards! to whom the Drama's Muse is dear, 

He was your master — emulate him here ! 
* Ye men of wit and social eloquence ! 
40 He was your brother — bear his ashes hence ! 

While powers of mind almost of boundless range, 

Complete in kind — as various in their change ; 

While eloquence — wit — poesy — and mirth, 

(That humbler harmonist of care on earth,) 
45 Survive within our souls — wnile lives our sense 

Of pride in merit's proud pre-eminence, 

* Pitt, Fox, and Burke. 
22 



254 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 9 Q * 00. 

Long shall we seek his likeness — long in vain. 
And turn to all of him which may remain, 
Sighing that nature formed but one such man, 
50 And broke the die — in moulding Sheridan ! 



Exercise 100. 

The last family of Eastern Greenland. — Montgomery. 

In the cold sunshine of yon narrow dell, 
Affection lingers ; there two lovers dwell, 
Greenland's whole family ; nor long forlorn, 
There comes a visitant ; a babe is born. 
5 O'er his meek helplessness the parents smiled; 
7 Twas hope ; — for hope is every mother's child. 
Then seemed they, in that world of solitude, 
The Eve and Adam of a race renewed. 
Brief happiness! too perilous to last: 

10 The moon hath waxed and waned, and all is past. 
Behold the end ! — one morn athwart the wall, 
They marked the shadow of a reindeer fall, 
Bounding in tameless freedom o'er the snow; 
The father tracked him, and with fatal bow 

15 Smote down the victim ; but, before his eyes, 
A rabid she-bear pounced upon the prize; 
A shaft into the spoiler's flank he sent, 
She turned in wrath, and limb from limb had rent / 
The hunter ; but his dagger's plunging steel, 

20 With riven bosom, made the monster reel ; 
Unvanquished, both to closer combat flew, 
Assailants each, till each the other slew; 
Mingling their blood from mutual wounds, they lay 
Stretched on the carcass of their antlered prey. 

25 Meanwhile his partner waits, her heart at rest, 
No burden but her infant on her breast; 
With him she slumbers, or with him she plays, 
And tells him all her dreams of future days, 
-Asks him a thousand questions, feigns replies, 

30 And reads what e'er she wishes in his eyes. 

— Red evening comes ; no husband 1 s shadow falls. 
Where fell the reindeer's, o'er the latticed walls ; 
'Tis night ! no footstep sounds towards her door ; 



Ex. s.\Ju, LOt.] EXERCISES.— PART IT. 255 

The day returns, — but he returns no more. 

35 in frenzy forth she sallies, and with cries, 
To which no voice except her own replies, 
In frightful echoes, starting all around, 
Where human voice again shall never sound, 
She seeks him, finds him not ; some angel guide 

40 In mercy turns her from the corpse aside: 
Perhaps his own freed spirit, lingering near, 
Who waits to waft her to a happier sphere, 
But leads her first, at evening to their cot, 
Where lies the little one, all day forgot ; 

45 Imparadised in sleep, she finds him there, 

Kisses his cheek, and breathes a mother's prayer. 

Three days she languishes, nor can she shed 

One tear between the living and the dead ; 

When her lost spouse comes o'er the widow's thought, 

50 The pangs of memory are to madness wrought; 
But, when her suckling's eager lips are felt, 
Her heart would fain — but Oh ! it cannot melt; 
At length it breaks, while on her lap he lies, 
With baby wonder gazing in her eyes. 

55 Poor orphan ! mine is not a hand to trace 
Thy little story, last of all thy race ! 
Not long thy sufferings ; cold and colder grown, 
The arms that clasp thee, chill thy limbs to stone. 
— 'Tis done : — from Greenland's coast the latest sigh 

60 Bore infant innocence beyond the sky. 



Exercise 101. 

The City and the Country. — M/Donnough. 

.The arrival of the two mountaineers was not long in 
being known to the whole household in May Fair. Lit- 
tle Mary had hoisted the tartan in less time than the 
ordinary tribe of lady's maids could easily comprehend, 
5 and having hoisted that, she descended the stairs with 
more rapidity than is customary with even that light- 
footed tribe. " The shakings by the hand, the " good 
graciouses! and are you there?" the uninterrupted in- 
quiries, the questions answered by a look, and the ques- 
10 tions so rapid as not to admit of that brief response, pass- 



256 i EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 10L 

ed like the shadow of a cloud upon a Highland glen — 
like the ruffling of the wind upon a Highland lake. The 
castle, the loch, the river, the cliff — every field, every 
hill, e\xry spot, and almost every bush, had its note of 

1 5 recollection, and its tribute of praise. 

There is something exquisite in this — something 
which the inhabitants of thronged cities, cannot appre- 
ciate. But in the patriarchal land of the north, there is, 
or there was, ere avarice laid it waste, or the love of 

20 money made it a desolation — a love of every thing thai 
was, as well as of every thing that is. The same an- 
cient stone which sheltered the sire, shelters the son ; 
against the tree which his father planted, no man will 
lift up an axe ; and the resting-place of the departed is 

25 sacred as long as life warms a heart, which was present 
when they were laid in the dust. In a great city, man, 
dependent on his own exertions, following the bent of 
his own passions or appetites, and reckless of every gra- 
tification but those of himself, is disjointed from man. 

30 The tenants of the same roof, know not the names of 
each other, and to be parted by one paltry brick, makes 
a separation as complete, as though they dwelt at the an- 
tipodes. Not only is man disjointed from man, but age 
is disjointed from age. The people who inhabit a street 

35 or a square, now know nothing and care nothing about 
those who inhabited it immediately before; and their 
brief memorial will be as quickly blotted out by t!»4 per- 
sons whom chance may afterwards place in the same 
situation. Thus, while the great city brings the bodies 

40 of men together, it scatters their minds, breaks all the 
ties and links of sympathetic society, and piles up its 
tens and hundreds of thousands, (to all intents and pur- 
poses of deep feeling and delightful intercourse,) like 
the cold, hard, unadhering and unconnected particles of 

45 a mountain of sand, which the wind of whim, or chance, 
or commerce, may whisk about just as the sand parti- 
cles by the Red Sea are whisked about on the wings of 
the deadly saniel. In the retirement of the country, 
and especially in that country from which our humble 

50 visitors have come, and to which our lovely heroine is 
looking, it is not so. There man is united to man, and 
age is linked with age, in the closest ties of friendship, 
the most delightful bonds of sympathy, the most touching 



Ex. 101, 102. j EXERCISES. PART II. 257 

reminiscences of sorrow, and the fondest anticipations 
55 of hope. If a man would eat, drink, die, and be for- 
gotten, let his dwelling place be in the city : if he would 
live, love, and be remembered, let him speed him to the 
glens of the mountains. 



Exercise 102. 

<S u in m ary Pun ish men t. — W alter Scott. 

it was under the burning influence of revenge that the 
wife of AiacGregor commanded that me nostage exchanged 
for her husband's safety should be brought into her pre- 
sence. I believe her sons had kept this unfortunate wretch 
5 out of her sight, for fear of the consequences ; but if it was 
so, their humane precaution only postponed his fate. They 
dragged forward at her summons a wretch already half 
dead with terror, in whose agonized features I recognised, 
to mv horror and astonishment, my old acquaintance 

10 Moiris. 

Be fell prostrate before the female chief, with an effort 
to clasp her knees, from which she drew back, as if his 
touch had been pollution, so that all he could do in token 
of the extremity of his humiliation, was to kiss the hem of 

15 her plaid. I never heard entreaties for life poured forth 
with such agony of spirit. The ecstacy of fear was such, 
that, instead of paralyzing his tongue, as on ordinary oc- 
casions, it even rendered him eloquent ; and. with cheeks 
as pale as ashes, hands compressed in agony, eyes that 

20 seemed to be taking their last look of all mortal objects, 
he prayed but for life — for life he would give all he had 
in the world ; — it was but life he asked — life, if it were to 
be prolonged under tortures and privations : — he asked 
only breath, though it should be drawn in the depths of 

25 the lowest caverns of their hills. 

It is impossible to describe the scorn, the loathing, 
and contempt, with which the wife of MacGregor re- 
garded this wretched petitioner for the poor boon of ex 
istence. 

30 She gave a brief command in Gaelic to her attendants, 

two of whom seized upon the prostrate suppliant, and 

hurried him to the brink of a cliff which overhung the 

flood. He set up the most piercing and dreadful cries 

22* 



258 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 102, 103. 

that fear ever uttered — I may well term them drea'dful % 

85 for they haunted my sleep for years afterwards. 

I was so much moved by this horrid spectacle, that, 
although in momentary expectation of sharing his fate, I 
did attempt to speak in his behalf, but, as might have 
been expected, my interference was sternly disregarded. 

40 The victim w r as held fast by some, while others, bind- 
ing a* large heavy stone in a plaid, tied it round his 
neck, and others again, eagerly stripped him of some 
part of his dress. Half-naked, and thus manacled, they 
hurried him into the lake, there about twelve feet deep, 

4f drowning his \z£> death-shriek with a loud halloo of vin- 
dictive triumph, over which, however, the yell of mortal 
agony was distinctly heard. The heavy burden splash- 
ed in the dark blue waters of the lake, and the High- 
landers, with their pole-axes and swords, watched an in- 

50 stant, to guard, lest, extricating himself from the load to 
which he was attached, he might have struggled to 
regain the shore. But the knot had been securely 
bound; the victim sunk without effort ; the waters 
which his fall had disturbed, settled calmly over him, 

55 and the unit of that life for which he had pleaded so 
strongly, was forever withdrawn from the sum of human 
existence. 



Exercise 103. 

On the receipt of his Mother's Picture. — Cowper. 

Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours, 
When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, 
The violet, the pink, the jessamine, 
[ pricked them into paper with a pin, — 
5 (And thou wast happier than myself the while, 

Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smiles- 
Could those few pleasant days again appear, 
Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here? 
I would not trust my heart — the dear delight 
10 Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might. — 
Rut, no— what here we call our life is such, 
Bo little to be loved, and thou so much, 
That I should ill requite thee to constrain 



Ex. 103, 104.] EXERCISES. PART II. 259 

Thy unbound spirit into bonds again. 

15 Thou as a gallant bark from Albion's coast, 
(The storms all weathered, and the ocean crossed,) 
Shoots into port at some well-havened isl®, 
Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile, 
There sits quiescent on the floods, that show 

20 Her beauteous form reflected clear below, 
While airs impregnated with incense nlay 
Around her fanning light her streamers gay , 
So thou, with sails how swift! hast reached the shore, 
" Where tempests never beat, nor billows roar," 

25 And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide 
Of life, long since has anchored by thy side. 
But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest, 
Always from port withheld, always distressed — 
Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest-tossed, 

30 Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and compasb lost, 
And day by day some current's thwarting force, 
Sets me more distant from a prosperous course. 
Yet, O the thought, that thou art safe, and he I 
That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. 

35 My boast is not, that I deduce my birth 

From loins enthron'd, and rulers of the Earth; 
But higher far my proud pretensions rise — 
The son of parents, passed into the skies. 



Exercise 104. 

Extract from " The Grave ." — Montgomery. 

1 There is a calm for those who weep ; 

A rest for weary pilgrims found: 
They softly lie, and sweetly sleep, 
Low in the ground ! 

2 The storm that wrecks the winter sky, 

No more disturbs their deep repose, 
Than summer-evening's latest sigh, 
That shuts the rose. 

3 I long to lay this painful head, 

And aching heart, beneath the soil ; 
To slumber in that dreamless bed, 
From all my toil. 



260 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 104, 105 

4 Art thou a wanderer ? — hast thou seen 

O'erwhelming tempests drown thy bark? 
A shipwrecked sufferer hast thou been, 
Misfortune's mark? 

5 Though long of winds and wav js the sport. 

Condemned in wretchedness to roam, 
Live ! thou shalt reach a sheltering port, 
A quiet home ! 

G There is a calm for those who weep ! 
A rest for weary pilgrims found: 
And while the mouldering ashes sleep 
Low in the ground ; — 

7 The soul, of origin Divine, 

God's glorious image, freed from clay, 
In Heaven's eternal sphere shall shine 
A star of day ! 

8 The sun, is but a spark of fire, 

A transient meteor in the sky ; 
The soul, immortal as its Sire, 
Shall never die ! 



Exercise 105. 
Defence of Johnson. — Curran. 

Even if it should be my client's fate to be surrender- 
ed to his keepers — to be torn from his family — to have 
his obsequies performed by torch light — to be carried 
to a foreign land, and to a strange tribunal, where no 
5 witness can attest his innocence, where no voice that 
he ever heard can be raised in his defence, where he 
must stand mute, not of his own malice, but the malice of 
his enemies — yes, even so, I see nothing for him to fear; 
— that all-gracious Being, that shields the feeble from the 

10 oppressor, will fill his heart with hope, and confidence, 
and courage; his sufferings will be his armour, and his 
weakness will be his strength. He will find himself in 
the hands of a brave, a just, and a generous nation — he 
will find that the bright, examples of her Russels and 

15 her Sydney s have not been lost to her children. They 



Ex. 105.] EXERCISES — PART II. 261 

will behold him with sympathy and respect, and his 
persecutors with shame and abhorrence; they will 
feel too, that what is then his situation, may to-morrow 
be their own — but their first tear will be shed for him, 

20 and the second onl,y for themselves. Their hearts will 
melt in his acquittal ; they will convey him kindly and 
fondly to their shore ; and he will return in triumph to 
his country; to the threshold of his sacred home, and to 
the weepinq welcome of his delighted family. He will 

25 find that the darkness of a dreary and a lingering night 
hath at length passed away, and that joy cometh in th.p 
morning. — No, my Lords, I have no fear for the ultimate 
safety of my client. Even in these very acts of brutal 
violence that have been committed against him, do I 

30 hail the flattering hope of final advantage to him — and 
not only of final advantage to him, but of better days 
and more prosperous fortune for this afflicted country — 
that country of which I have so often abandoned all hope, 
and which I have been so often determined to quit for- 

35 ever. 

I have repented — I have staid — and I am at once re- 
buked and rewarded by the happier hopes that I now 
entertain. In the anxious sympathy of the public — in 
the anxious sympathy of my learned brethren, do I catch 

40 the happy presage of a brighter fate for Ireland. They 
see, that within these sacred walls, the cause of liberty 
and of man may be pleaded with boldness and heard 
with favour. I am satisfied they will never forget the 
great trust, of which they alone are now the remaining 

45 depositaries. While they continue to cultivate a sound 
philosophy — a mild and tolerating Christianity — and to 
make both the sources of a just and liberal, and consti- 
tutional jurisprudence, I see every thing for us to hope; 
into Cheir hands, therefore, with the most affectionate 

50 confidence in their virtue, do I commit these precious 
hopes. Even J may live long enough yet to see the 
approaching completion, if not the perfect accomplish- 
ment of them. Pleased shall I .then resign the scene to 
fitter actors — pleased shall I lay down my wearied head to 

55 rest, and say, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart 
id peace, according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen 
thy salvation." 



262 EXERCISES. PART II. 'Ex. .06. 



Exercise 106. 

Taking of Warsaw. — C a mpbell. 

1 When leagued Oppression poured to northern wars 
Her whiskered pandoors and her fierce hussars, 
Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn, 
Peaied her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet horn; 
Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van, 
Presaging wrath to Poland — and to man ! 

2 Warsaw's last champion, from her height surveyed 
Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid, — 

(°°) Oh ! Heaven ! he cried, my bleeding country save 

Is there no hand on high to shield the brave? 

Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains, 

Rise, fellow men ! our country, yet remains ! 

By that dread name, we wave the sword on high, 

And swear for her to live ! — with her to die ! 

3 ( ) He said, and on the rampart-heights arrayed 
His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed ! 
Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form, 
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm ; 
Low, murmuring sounds along their banners fly, 
Revenge, or death,-— the watchword and reply ; 
(<) Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm, 
And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm! — 

4 ( — ) In vain, alas ! in vain, ye gallant few ! 
From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew: — 
Oh ! bloodiest picture in the book of Time, 
Saimatia fell, unwept, without a crime; 

Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe, 
Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her wo ! 
Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered speai 
Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career!— 
Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell, 
And Freedom shrieked — as Kosciusko fell. 

5 The sun went down, nor ceased the carnage there 
Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air — 

On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow, 
His blood-dyed waters rnurm'ring far below; 



Ex. 106, 107.] EXERCISES. PART II. 4 263 

The storm prevails, the ramparts yield away, 
Bursts the wild cry of horror and dismay; 
HarK' as the smouldering piles with thunder fall, 
A -thousand shrieks f or hopeless mercy call ! 
Earth shook — red meteors flashed along the sky, 
And conscious nature shuddered at the cry ! 

6 Departed spirits of the mighty dead ! 
Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled ! 
Friends of the world ! restore your swords to man, 
Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van ! 
Yet for Samarlia's tears of blood atone, 
And make her arm puissant as your own ! 
Oh ! once again to Freedom's cause return 
The patriot Tell — the Bruce of Bannockburn ! 



Exercise 107. 

■Lord Chatham.-— -Butler. 

Of those, by whom Lord North was preceded, none, 
probably, except Lord Chatham, will be remember- 
ed by posterity ; but the nature of the eloquence of 
this extraordinary man, it is extremely difficult to de- 
5 scribe. 

No person in his external appearance was ever more 
bountifully gifted by nature for an orator. In his look 
and his gesture, grace and dignity were combined, but 
dignity presided ; the " terrors of his beak, the light- 

10 nings of his eye," were insufferable. His voice was both 
full and clear ; his lowest whisper was distinctly heard, 
his middle tones were sweet, rich, and beautifully varied ; 
when he elevated his voice to its highest pitch, the 
house was completely filled with the volume of the 

15 sound. The effect was awful, except when he wished 
jo cheer or animate ; he then had spirit stirring notes, 
which were perfectly irresistible. He frequently rose, 
on a sudden, from a very low to a very high key, but it 
seemed to be without effort. His diction was remark- 

20 ably simple, but words were never chosen with greater 
care; he mentioned to a friend that he had perused 
some of Dr. Barrow 1 s Sermons so often as to know them 
by heart. 



264 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 107, 

His sentiments too, were apparently simple ; but senti- 

25 ments were never adopted or uttered with greater skill ; 
he was often familiar and even playful, but it was the fa- 
miliarity and playfulness of cordescension — the lion that 
dandled with the kid. The terrible, however, was his 
peculiar power. — Then the whole house sunk before him. 

3C — Still he was dignified ; and wonderful as was his elo- 
quence, it was attended with this most important effect, 
that it impressed every hearer with a conviction, that 
there was something in him even finer than his words ; 
that the man was infinitely greater than the orator. No 

35 impression of this kind was made by the eloquence ot 
his son, or his son's antagonist. 

Still, — with the great man, — for great he certainly was, 
— manner did much. One of the fairest specimens which 
we possess of his lordship's oratory, is his speech, in 
1776, for the repeal of the stamp act. 

40 Most, perhaps, who read the report of this speech, in 
Aimon's Register, will wonder at the effect, which it is 
known to have produced on the hearers : yet the report 
is tolerably exact, and exhibits, although faintly, its lead- 
ing features. But they should have seen the look of in- 

45 efTable contempt, with which he surveyed the late Mr. 
Grenville, who sat within one of him, and should have 
heard him say with that look, — '* As to the late minis- 
try, — every capital measure they have taken, has been 
entirely wrong" They should also have beheld him, 

50 when addressing himself to Mr. Gren vale's successors, 
he said, — " As to the present gentlemen, — those, at 
least, whom 1 have in my eye," — (looking at the bench 
on which Mr. Conway sat,) — "I have no objection; I 
have never been made a sacrifice by any of them. — 

55 Some of them have done me the honour to ask my poor 
opinion, before they would engage to repeal the act: — 
they will do me the justice to own, I did advise them to 
engage to do it, — but notwithstanding — (for I love to he 
explicit,) — I cannot give them my confidence. Pardon 

60 me, gentlemen," — (bowing to them,) — " confidence is a 
plant of slow growth." Those, who remember the ail 
of condescending protection, with which the bow was 
made, and the look given, when he spoke these words, 
will recollect how much they themselves, at the moment, 

65 were both delighted and awed, and what they them- 



Ex. 107, 108] EXERCISES. PART II. 265 

* Ives then conceived of the immeasurable superiority 
^f the orator over every human being that surrounded 
him. In the passages which we have cited, there is 
70 nothing which an ordinary speaker might not have said; 
it was the manner, and the manner only, which produced 
the effect. 



Exercise 108. 

Mr. Fox and Mr. Pitt. — Butler. 

On his first separation from the ministry, Mr. Fox as- 
sumed the character of a whig. 

Almost the whole of his political life was spent in op- 
position to his majesty's ministers. In vehemence and 
5 power of argument he resembled Demosthenes ; but 
there the resemblance ended. He possessed a strain of 
ridicule and wit, which nature denied to the Athenian; 
and it was the more powerful, as it always appeared to 
be blended with argument, and to result from it. To 

10 the perfect composition which so eminently distinguishes 
the speeches of Demosthenes, he had no pretence. 
H^ was heedless of method: — having the complete com- 
mand of good words, he never bought for better: if 
those, which occurred, expressed his meaning clearly 

15 and forcibly, he paid little attention to their arrange- 
ment or harmony. 

The moment of his grandeur was, when, after he had 
stated the argument of his adversary, with much greater 
strength than his adversary had done, and with much 

2U greater than any of his hearers thought possible, he 
seized it with the strength oi a giant, and tore and 
trampled on it to destruction. If. at this moment, he 
had possessed the power of the Athenian over the pas- 
sions or the imaginations of his hearers, he might have 

25 disposed of the house at his pleasure : but this was de- 
nied to him: and, on this account, his speeches fell very 
short of the effect, which otherwise they must have pro- 
duced. 

It is difficult to decide on the comparative merit of 

30 him and Mr, Pitt; the latter had not the vehemert rea- 
soning, or argumentative ridicule, of Mr. Fox : but he 
23 



266 exercises. — rART ii. [Ex. 108. 109. 

had more splendour, more imagery, and n.ach more 
method and discretion. His long, lofty, and reverential 
panegyrics of the British constitution, his eloquent vi- 
$5 tuperations of those, whom he described as advocating 
the democratic spirit, then let loose on the inhabitants of 
the earth, and his solemn adjuration of the house, to de- 
fend and to assist him, in defending their all against it t 
were, in the highest degree, Loth imposing and concili] 

tO ating. In addition, he had the command of bitter, con- 
temptuous sarcasm, which tortured to madness. This 
he could expand or compress at pleasure: even in one 
member of a sentence, he could inflict a wound that was 
never healed. 

45 Mr. Fox had a captivating earnestness of tone and 
manner; Mr. Pitt was more dignified than earnest. 
The action of Mr. Fox was easy and graceful ; Mr. 
Pitt's cannot be praised. It was an observation of the 
reporters in the gallery, that it required great exertion 

50 to follow Mr. Fox while he was speaking ; none to re- 
member what he had said; that it was easy and de- 
lightful to follow Mr. Pitt; not so easy to recollect what 
had delighted them. It may be added, that, in all Mr. 
Fox's speeches, even when he was most violent, there 

55 was an unquestionable indication of good humour, 
which attracted every heart. Where there was such a 
seeming equipoise of merit, the two last circumstances 
might be thought to turn the scale; but Mr. Pitt's un- 
deviating circumspection, — sometimes concealed, some- 

60 times ostentatiously displayed, — tended to obtain for 
him, from the considerate and the grave, a confidence 
which they denied to his rival. 



Exercise 109. 

Death of Lord Chatham. — Percy. 

Lord Chatham entered the House of Lords for the last 
time on the 7th of April 1778, leaning upon two friends. 
He was wrapped up in flannel, and looked pale and ema- 
ciated. His eye was still penetrating; and though with 
the evident appearance of a dying man, there never was 
seen a figure of more dignity ; he appeared like a being 



Ei. 109.] EXERCISES. PART II 267 

of superior species. He rose from his seat slowly, and 
with difficulty, leaning on his crutches, and supported 
under each arm by two of his friends. He took one 

13 hand from his crutch, and raised it, casting his eyes 
toward heaven, and said, u I thank God that I have been 
enabled to come here this day — to perform my duty, and 
to speak on a subject which has so deeply impressed my 
mind. I am old and infirm; have one foot, more than 

15 one foot, in the grave. I am risen from my bed, to stand 
up in the cause of my country ! perhaps never again to 
speak in this house! 53 At first he spoke in a very low 
and feeble tone ; but as he grew warm, his voice rose, 
and was as harmonious as ever, perhaps more oratorical 

20 and affecting than at any former period ; both from his 
own situation, and from the importance of the subject on 
which he spoke. He gave the whole history of the Amer- 
ican war; of ail the measures to which he had objected ; 
and all the evils which he had prophesied would be the 

25 consequence of them ; adding, at the end of each, " And 
so it proved." 

In "one part of his speech he ridiculed the apprehen- 
sion of an invasion; and then recalled J he remembrances 
of former invasions. " Of a Spanish invasion, of a 

30 French invasion, of a Dutch invasion, many noble lords 
may have read in history ; and some lords (looking keen- 
ly at one who sat near him,) may perhaps remember a 
Scotch invasion !" 

When the Duke of Richmond was speaking, he looked 

35 at him with attention and composure ; but when he rose 
to answer, his strength failed him, and he fell backward. 
He was instantly supported by those who were near him. 
He was then carried to Mr. Serjent's house in Downing 
street ; and from thence conveyed home to Hayes, and 

40 put to bed from which he never rose. Such was the 
glorious end of the great Lord Chatham, who died in the 
discharge of a great political duty, a duty which he came 
in a dying state to perform. 



268 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 110 

Exercise 110. 

Lord Mansfield. — Percy. 

It is yet the traditionary tale of the country that gave 
this great orator and lawyer birth, that almost in infan- 
cy he was accustomed to declaim upon his native moun- 
tains, and repeat to the winds the most celebrated speeches 
5 of Demostneijes and Cicero, not only in their original 
text, but 'n his cwn translations of them. 

Mansneid advanced to the dignities of the state by 
rapid strides. They were not bestowed by the caprice 
of party favour or affection; they were (as was said ol 

10 Pliny) liberal dispensations of power, upon an object that 
knew how to add new lustre to that power, by the ra 
tional exertion of bis own. 

As a speaker in the House of Lords, he was without 
a competitor. His language w r as elegant and perspicu- 

15 ous, arranged with the happiest method, and applied 
with the utmost extent of haman ingenuity; his images 
were often bold, and always just; but the more prevail- 
ing character of his eloquence, was that of being flowing, 
soft, delightful, and affecting Among his more rare 

20 qualifications, may be ranked the external graces of his 
person ; the fire and vivacity of his looks ; the delicious 
harmony of his voice; and that habitual fitness in all he 
said, which gave to his speeches more than the e^ect ol 
the most laboured compositions. He was modest and 

25 unassuming; never descending to personal altercation, 
or even replying to personal reflections, except when they 
went to affect the integrity of his public character. When 
instances of the latter occurred, he evinced that he was 
not without a spirit to repel them ; of this he gave a 

30 memorable proof, in the debate on Wilkes' outlawry, 
when, being accused of braving the popular opinion, he 
replied in the following noble strain of eloquence. 

44 If I have ever supported the king's measures; if I 
have ever afforded any assistance to government : if I 

35 have discharged my duty as a public or private officer, 
by endeavouring to preserve pure and perfect the prin- 
ciples + of the constitution; maintaining unsullied the 
honour of the courts of justice ; and by an upright admin- 
istration ofi to give due effect to, the laws; I have hith- 



Ex. 110.] EXERCISES. PART II. 269 

40 erto done it without any other gift or reward, than that 
most pleasing and most honourable one, the conscientious 
conviction of doing what is right. I do not affect to 
scorn the opinion of mankind ; I wish earnestly for pop 
uiarity; but- I will tell you how I will obtain it: I will 

45 have thai popularity which follows, and not that which 
is run after. 'Tis not the applause of a day; 'tis not 
the huzzas of thousands, that can give a moment's satis- 
faction to a rational being; that man's mind must, in- 
deed, be a weak one, and his ambition of a most deprav- 

50 ed sort, who can be captivated by such wretched allure- 
ments, or satisfied with such momentary gratifications. 
I say with the Roman orator, and can say it with as much 
truth as he did, 'Ego hoc animo semperfui ut invidiam 
virtute partem, gloriam non infamiam putarem.' But 

55 threats have been carried further; personal violence has 
been denounced, unless public humor be complied w T ith. 
I do not fear such threats; I don't believe there is any 
reason to fear them ; it is not the genius of the worst of 
men in the worst of times, to proceed to such shocking 

60 extremities ; but if such an event should hnppen, let it 
be so; even such an event might be productive of whole- 
some effects ; such a stroke might rouse the better part 
of the nation from their lethargic condition, to a state of 
activity, to assert and execute the law, and punish the 

65 daring and impious hands which* had violated it; and 
those who now supinely behold the danger which threat- 
ens all liberty from the most abandoned licentiousness, 
might by such an event be awakened to a sense of their 
situation, as drunken men are often shamed into sobriety. 

70 If the security of our persons and property, of all we 
hold dear or valuable, are to depend upon the caprice of a 
giddy multitude, or to be at the disposal of a mob ; if, in 
compliance with the humors, and to appease the clamors 
of these, all civil and political institutions are to be dis- 

75 regarded or overthrown ; a life somewhat more than sixty, 
is not worth preserving at such a price, and he can never 
die too soon, who lays down his life in support and vin- 
dication of the policy, the government, and the constitu- 
tion of his country." 

23* 



270 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. Hi, 

Exercise 111. 

Providential Distinctions. — Pollok. 
One man there was, — and many such you might 
Have met — who never had a dozen thoughts 
In all his life, and never changed their course; 
But told them o'er, each in its 'customed place, 
5 From morn till night, from youth till hoary age. 
Little above the ox which grazed the field 
His reason rose : so weak his memory, 
The name his mother called him by, he scarce 
Remembered ; arid his judgement so untaught, 

10 That what at evening played along the swamp, 
Fantastic, clad 'in robe of fiery hue, 
He thought the devil in disguise, and fled 
With quivering heart, and winged footsteps home. 
The word philosophy he never heard, 

15 Or science; never heard of liberty, 
Necessity ; or laws of gravitation : 
And never had an unbelieving doubt. 
Beyond his native vale he never looked ; 
But thought the visual line, that girt him round, 

20 The world's extreme: and thought the silver moon, 
That nightly o'er him led her virgin host, 
No broader than his father's shield. He lived — 
Lived where his father lived — died where hevSedj 
Lived happy, and died happy, and was saved. 

25 Be not surprised. He loved, and served his God. 

There was another, large of understanding, 
Of memory infinite, of judgement deep : 
Who knew all learning, and all science knew; 
And all phenomena m heaven and earth, 

30 Traced to their causes; traced the labyrinths 
Of thought, association, passion, will ; 
And all the subtile, nice affinities 
Of matter, traced ; its virtues, motions, laws, 
And most familiarly and deeply talked 

35 Of mental, moral, natural, divine. 

Leaving the earth at will, he soared to heaven, 
And read the glorious visions of the skies; 
And to the music of the rolling spheres 
Intelligently listened ; and gazed far back, 

40 Into the awful depths of Deity. 



Ex. Ill, 112.] EXERCISES. PART II. 271 

Did all, that mind assisted most, could do ; 
And yet in misery lived, in misery died, 
Because he wanted holiness of heart. 

A deeper lesson this to mortals taught, 
45 And nearer cut the branches of their pride: 
That not in mental, but in moral worth, 
God, excellence placed ; and only to the good, 
To virtue, granted happiness alone. 



Exercise 112. 

Eloquence of Bossuet. — Butler. 

We have mentioned Mr. Burke's endless corrections 
of his compositions; Bossuet, by the account of his 
Benedictine editors, was equally laborious ; but in this 
they differed : that Burke appears to have been satisfied 
5 with his original conceptions, and to have been fastidious 
only in respect to words and phrases ; Bossuet seems to 
have been equally dissatisfied with his first thoughts and 
his first words. 

Rousseau himself has informed us, that between his 

10 first committing of a sentence to paper and his final 
settlement of it, his obliterations and alterations were 
countless. That this should have been the case of such 
writers as Robertson or Gibbon, is not surprising: their 
eternal batteries and counter-batteries of words, seem 

15 to be the effect of much reflection and many second 
thoughts ; but that it should have been the case with 
writers like Bossuet, Burke, and Rousseau, who appear 
to pour streams equally copious and rapid of unpremed- 
itated eloquence, appears extraordinary: it justifies the 

20 common remark, that we seldom read with pleasure, 
what has not been composed with labour. Such are the 
pages of Addison, such the Offices of Cicero; such also, 
but in a superlative degree, are many passages of Mil- 
ton : Akenside, his imitator, with all his genius, taste, 

25 and labour, never attained it; he does not exhibit a sin- 
gle instance of this perfect composition : but we often 
find it in Gray. 

Every thing we know of Bossuet, leads us to think 
that he had a very feeling heart ; it certainly is discern- 



272 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 112. 

30 ible in every line of his funeral oration on the princess 
Henrietta. He chose for his text the verse of Ecclesi- 
astes, so suitable to the occasion, "Vanity of vanities I 
All is vanity !" Having pronounced these words, he re- 
mained for some time in silence, evidently overpowered 

35 by his feelings. " It was to be my lot," he then ex- 
claimed, " to perform this melancholy duty to the mem- 
ory of this illustrious princess! She, whom I had ob- 
served so attentive, while I performed the same duty to 
her royal mother, was herself so soon to become the 

40 theme of a similar discourse ! — And my voice was so 
soon to be exerted in discharging the like melancholy 
duty to her ! O vanity ! O nothing ! O mortals ! ever 
ignorant of what awaits you !■ — But a month ago would 
she have thought it ! You, who then beheld her drown- 

45 ed in tears for her mother's loss, would you have thought 
it! Would you have thought, that you were so soon to 
meet again to bewail her own fate! O va,nity of vani- 
ties ! All is vanity ! These are the only words ! the 
only reflection, which, in such an event, my sorrow 

50 leaves me !" 

After this eloquent exordium, Bossuet pursues his dis- 
mal theme. He describes, in strains, always eloquent, 
but always mournful, the short but brilliant career of 
the princess; — so highly stationed, so greatly gifted, so 

55 widely admired, and so generally loved ! The idol of 
the world ! The pride of her august family ! the de- 
light of all who approached her! — " Yet what," he ex- 
claimed, "is all this, which we, so much below it, so 
greatly admire ! While we tremble in the view of the 

60 great, God smites them, that they may serve as warn- 
ings to us. Yes, so little does he consider these great 
ones, that he makes them often serve as mere materials 
for our instruction! — We have always sufficient reason 
to be convinced of our nothingness; but if, to wean our 

65 hearts from the fascination of the world, the wonderful 
ami the astonishing is necessary, what we now behold is 
sufficiently terrible. O night of wo! O night of hor- 
ror ! When, like a peal of thunder, the dreadful words, 
— Henrietta is dying — Henrietta is dead — burst upon us ! 

70 Nothing could be heard but cries ; — nothing was discern- 
ible but grief, despair, and the image of death!" — The 
writers of the time mentioned that when Bossuet pro- 



Ex. 112, 113.J EXERCISES. PART II. 273 

nounced these words, the whole audience arose from 
their seats; that terror was visible in every countenance, 
75 and that, for some moments, Bossuet himself was unable 
to proceed. 



Exercise 113. 

Eloquence of Bourdaloue. — Butler. 

In delivering his sermons, Bourdaloue used no ac- 
tion; Bossuet and Massillcn used much; the action of 
the last was particularly admired. It produced an ex- 
traordinary effect, when he pronounced his funeral ora- 
5 tion upon Lewis the Fourteenth. The church was hung 
with black, a magnificent mausoleum was raised over 
the bier, the edifice was filled with trophies and other 
memorials of the monarch's past glories, daylight was 
excluded, but innumerable tapers supplied its place, 

10 and the ceremony was attended by the most illustrious 
persons in the kingdom. Massillon ascended the pul- 
pit, contemplated, for some moments, the scene before 
him, then raised his arms to heaven, looked down on 
the scene beneath, and, rfter a short pause, slowly said, 

15 in a solemn subdued tone, "God only is great!" With 
one impulse, all the auditory rose from their seats, turn- 
ed to the altar, and slowly and reverently bowed. 

Those, who read sermons merely for their lite\ary 
merit, will generally prefer the sermons of Massillon to 

20 those of Bourdaloue and Bossuet. But those who read 
sermons for instruction, and whose chief object in the 
perusal of them, is to be excited to viitue or confirm- 
ed in her paths, will generally consider Bourdaloue as 
the first of preachers, and every time they peruse him, 

25 will feel new delight. 

When we recollect before whom Bourdaloue preach- 
ed ; that he had, for his auditors, the most luxurious 
court in Europe, and a monarch abandoned to ambition 
and pleasure, we shall find it impossible not to honour 

30 the preacher, for the dignified simplicity with which he 
uniformly held up to his audience the severity of the 
Gospel, and the scandal of the cross. Now and then, 
and ever with a very bad grace, he makes an unmean- 
ing compliment to the monarch. On these occasions, 

35 his genius appears to desert him ; but he never disguises 



274 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 113. 

the morality of the Gospel, or withholds its threats. 
In one of the sermons which he preached before the 
monarch, he described, with matchless eloquence, the 
horrors of an adulterous life, its abomination in the eve 

40 of God, its scandal to man, and the public and private 
evils which attend it: but he managed his discourse 
with so much address, that he kept the king from sus- 
pecting that the thunder of the preacher was ultimately 
to fail upon him. In general, Bourdaloue spoke in a 

45 level -tone of voice, and with his eyes almost shut. On 
■ this occasion, having wound up the attention of the 
monarch and the audience to the highest pitch, he paus- 
ed. The audience expected something terrible, and 
seemed to fear the next word. The pause continued 

50 for some time: at length, the preacher, fixing his eyes 
directly on his royal hearer, and in a tone of voice 
equally expressive of horror and concern, said, in the 
words of the prophet, " thou art the man /" then, leaving 
these words to their effect, he concluded with a mild 

55 and general prayer to heaven for the conversion of all 
sinners. A miserable courtier observed, in a whisper, 
to the monarch, that the boldness of the preacher ex- 
ceeded all bounds, and should be checked. " No, sir/' 
replied the monarch, " the preacher has done his duty, 

60 let us do ours" When the service was concluded, the 
monarch walked slowly from the church, and ordered 
Bourdaloue into his presence. He remarked to him, his 
general protection of religion, the kindness which he 
had ever shown to the Society of Jesus, his particular 

65 attention to Bourdaloue and his friends. He then re- 
proached him with the strong language of the sermon : 
and asked him, what could be his motive for insulting 
him, thus jpublicly, before his subjects? Bourdaloue 
fell on his knees : " God is my witness, that it was 

70 not my wish to insult your majesty; but I am a minis- 
ter of God, and must not disguise his truths. What 
I said in my sermon is my morning and evening prayer: 
— May God, in his infinite mercy, grant me to see the 
day, when the greatest of kings shall be the holiest." — 

75 The monarch was affected, and silently dismissed the 
preacher: but, from this time, the court began to ob- 
serve that change which afterward, and at no distant 
period, led Lewis to a life of regularity and virtue. 



ex 114.] exercises. part ii. 275 

Exercise 114. 
i 

Eloquence of Briclaine. — Butler. 

" The missionary orator, most renowned in our days, 
says Maury, was M. Bridaine. Highly gifted with pop- 
alar eloquence, full of animation, abounding in figures 
and pathos, no one possessed, in an equal degree, the 
5 rare- talent of commanding an assembled multitude. 
The organ of his voice was so powerful and happy, as to 
render credible what ancient history relates of the de- 
clamation of the ancients ; he made himself as well 
heard in open air, to an assembly of 10,000 persons, as 

10 if he spoke under the vault of the most sonorous temple. 
In all he said, there might be discovered that natural 
eloquence, which originates from genius ; that bound of 
natural vigour, which is superior to any imitation. His 
bold metaphors; his quick and vivid turns of thought 

15 and expression, equally surprised, affected and delighted. 
His eloquence was always simple, but it was always 
noble in its simplicity. With these endowments, he never 
failed to raise and preserve the attention of the people; 
they were never tired of listening to him." 

20 In 1751, he preached in the church of St. Sulpice, at 
Paris. His renown had preceded him; and the temple 
was filled with the highest dignitaries of the church and 
state, decorated with the various insignia of their ranks 
and orders. The venerable man ascended the pulpit, 

25 cast a look of indignation and pity on his audience, re- 
mained in silence for some moments, and then began 
his sermon in these words : — " In the presence of an 
audience of a kind so new to me, it might, my brethren, 
be thought, that I should not open my mouth, without 

30 entreating your indulgence to a poor missionary, who 
does not possess any one of the talents, which you are 
pleased to require from those who address you on the 
salvation of your souls. My feelings are very different. 
May God forbid, that any minister of the gospel shall 

35 ever think he owes an apology for preaching Gospel 
truths to you ; for, whoever you are, you, like myself, 
are sinners in the judgement of God. Till this day, I 
have published the judgements of the Most High in the 
temples roofed with straw: I have preached the rigours 



276 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 114, 115. 

40 of penance to an audience, most of whom wanted bread. 
I have proclaimed, to the simple inhabitants of the vil- 
lages, the most terrible truths of religion^ — Unhappy 
man! — what have I done? — I have afflicted the poor, 
the best friends of my God. I ha^e carried consterna 

45 tion and wo into simple and honest bosoms, which I 
ought rather to have soothed and comforted. 

" But here ! — where my eyes fall on the great, on the 
rich, on the oppressors of suffering humanity, or on bold 
and hardened sinners ; it is here, — in the midst of these 

50 scandals, — that I ought to make the holy word resound 
in all its thunders, and place on one side of me, death, 
that threatens you, and the great God, who is to judge 
us all. Tremble, ye proud, disdainful men, who listen 
to me ! Tremble ! for the abuse of favours of every kind, 

55 which God has heaped on you ! Think on the certainty 
of death: the uncertainty of its hour: how terrible it 
will be to you ! Think on final impenitence, — on the 
last judgement, — on the small number of the elect, and, 
above all, think on eternity! These are the subjects 

60 upon which I shall discourse to you, and which, with 
the feelings I have mentioned, [ ought to unfold to you 
all in all their terrors." 

u Who, 1 ' exclaims Cardinal Maury, " does not feel, 
both while he reads, and after he has read such an ex- 

65 ordium how much this eloquence of the soul is beyond 
the cold pretensions of the elegant men, with which our 
pulpits are now filled? Ye orators, who attend only to 
y r our own reputation, acknowledge here your master! 
Fall at the feet of this apostolic man, and learn, from a 

70 missionary priest, what is true eloquence. 



Exercise 115. 

Eloquence of White field. — Gillies. 

The eloquence of Whitefield was indeed very great, 
and of the truest kind. He was utterly devoid of all ap- 
pearance of affectation. He seemed to be quite uncon- 
scious of the talents he possessed. The importance of 
5 his subject, and the regard due to his hearers engrossed 
all his concern. He spoke like one w r ho did not seek 
their applause, but was concerned for their best interests ; 



Ex 115] EXERCISES. PART II. 277 

and who, from a principle of unfeigned love, earnestly 
endeavoured to lead them in the right Way. And fae 

10 effect, in some measure, corresponded to the design. 
They did not amuse themselves with commending his 
discourses ; but being moved and persuaded by what he 
said, entered into his views, felt his passions, and were 
willing for a time, at least, to comply with all his requests. 

1 5 The charm, however, was nothing else but the power of 
his irresistible eloquence ; in which respect, it is not 
easy to say, whether he was ever excelled either in an- 
cient or modern times. 

Fie had a strong and musical voice, and a wonderful 

20 command of it. His pronunciation was not only pro- 
per, but manly and graceful. Nor was he ever at a loss 
for the most natural and strong expressions. Yet, these 
in him were but lower qualities. 

The grand sources of his eloquence were an exceed- 

25 ing lively imagination, which made people think they 
saw what he described : an action still more lively, if 
possible, by which, w r hile every accent of his voice spoke 
to the ear, every feature of his face, every motion of his 
hands, and every gesture spoke to the eye. 

30 An intimate friend of the infidel Hume, asked him 
what he thought of Mr. Whitefleld's preaching; for he 
nad listened to the latter part of one of his sermons at 
Edinburgh. "He is, sir," said Mr. Hume, "the most 
ingenious preacher I ever heard. It is worth while to go 

35 twenty miles to hear him." He then repeated the fol- 
lowing passage which he heard, towards the close of that 
discourse: "After a solemn pause, Mr. Whitefield thus 
addressed his numerous audience ; — ; The attendant an- 
gel is just about to leave the threshold, and ascend to 

40 heaven. And shall he ascend and not bear with him the 
news of one sinner, among all this multitude, reclaimed 
from the error of his ways?' To give the greater effect 
to this exclamation, he stamped with his foot, lifted up 
his hands and eyes to heaven, and with gushing tears, 

45 cried aloud, * Stop, Gabriel! — Stop, Gabriel! — Stop, ero 
you enter the sacred portals, and yet carry with you the 
news of one sinner converted to God.' He then, in the 
most simple, but energetic language, described a Sa- 
viour's dying love to sinful man ; so that almost the whole 

50 assembly melted into tears. This address was accom- 

24. 



278 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 115, I 1 0. 

pa^ed with such animated, yet natural action, that it 
surpassed any thing I ever saw or heard in any otht r 
preacher." 

Happy had it been for poor Hume, had he received 

55 what he then heard. " as the word of God, and not as the 
word of man!" 

Dr. Franklin, in his memoirs, bears witness to the 
extraordinary effect which was produced by Mr. White- 
field's preaching in America; and relates an anecdote 

60 equally characteristic of the preacher and of himself. 
" I happened," says the doctor, " to attend one of his 
sermons, in the course of which I perceived he intended 
to finish with a collection, and I silently resolved he 
should get nothing from me. I had in my pocket a 

65 handful of copper money, three or fuur silver dollars, 
and five pistoles in gold. As he proceeded, I began to 
soften, and concluded to give the copper. Another 
stroke of his oratory made me ashamed of that, and de- 
termined me to give the silver ; and he finished so ad- 

70 mirably, that I emptied my pocket wholly into the col- 
lector's dish, gold and all. At this sermon there was 
also one of our club ; who, being of my sentiments res- 
pecting the building in Georgia, and suspecting a col- 
lection might be intended, had by precaution emptied 

75 his pockets before he came from home; towards the 
conclusion of the discourse, however, he felt a strong 
inclination to give, and applied to a neighbour who 
stood near him to lend him some money for the purpose. 
The request was fortunately made to perhaps the only 

80 man in the company who had the firmness not to be 
affected by the preacher. His answer was, "at any 
other time, friend Hodgkinson, I would lend to thee 
freely; but not now, for thee seems to be out of thy 
right senses." 



Exercise 116. 
Satan's Lamentation. — Milton. 

O had his pow'rful destiny ordain'd 
Me some inferior angel, I had stood 
Then happy; no unbounded hope had rais'd 
Ambition. Yet why not 1 Some other power 



Ex. I 16] EXERCISES. PART II. 279 

5 As great might have aspir'd, and me, though mean, 

Drawn to his part; but other powers as great 

Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within 

Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. 

Hadst thou the same free will and pow'r to stand? 
10 Thou hadst: Whom hast thou then, or what, (.'accuse, 

But Leav'n's free love dealt equally to all? 

Me miserable! which way shall I fly, 

Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ? 

Which way 1 fly is hell; myself am hell; 
15 ~^nd\ in the lowest deep, a lower deep 

Still threat'ning to devour me, opens wide, 

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven. 

O then at last relent: Is there no place 

Left for repentance, none for pardon left ? 
20 None left but by submission ; and that word 

Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame 

Among the sp'rits beneath, whom I seduc'd 

With other promises and other vaunts 

Than to submit, boasting I could subdue 
25 Th' Omnipotent. Ah me, they little know 

How dearly I abide that boast so vain ! 

Under what torments inwardly I groan, 

While they adore me on the throne of hell I 

With diadem and sceptre high advanced, 
30 The lower still I fall, only supreme 

la misery: Such joy ambition finds. 

But say I could repent, and could obtain, 

Bv act of grace, my former state; how soon 

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay 
35 What feign' d submission swore? ease would recant 

Vows made in pain, as violent and void. 

This knows my punisher : therefore as far 
■ From granting he, as I from begging peace: 

All hopL excluded thus, behold instead 
40 Of us outcast, exil'd his new delight, 

Mankind created, and for him this world. 

So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear, 

Farewell remorse : All good to me is lost. 



280 exercises. part ii. [ex. 117 

Exercise 117. 

Eloquence of Sheridan. 

Public curiosity was scarcely ever so strongly interest- 
ed as on the day when Mr. Sheridan was to speak on 
the Begum charge on the impeachment of Mr. Hastings. 
The avenues leading to the hall were filled with persons 
. 5 of the first distinction, many of them peeresses in full 
dress, who waited in the open air for upwards of an 
hour and a half, before the gates were opened, when the 
crowd pressed so eagerly forward, that many persons 
had nearly perished. No extract can do justice to this 

10 speech; the following is a partial specimen of its power: 

" When we hear the description o'fthe paroxysm, fever, 

and delirium, into which despair had thrown the natives, 

when on the banks of the polluted Ganges, panting for 

death, they tore more widely open the lips of their gap- 

15 ing wounds, to accelerate their dissolution, and while 
their blood was issuing, presented their ghastly eyes to 
Heaven, breathing their last and fervent prayer, that the 
dry earth might not be suffered to drink their blood, but 
that it might rise up to the throne of God, and rouse the 

20 eternal Providence to avenge the wrongs of their coun- 
try; what motive, could have such influence in their bo- 
som? what motive! — That which nature, the common 
parent, plants in the bosom of man, and which, tb< ^gh it 
ma}^ be less active in the Indian than in the Englishman, 

25 is still congenial with, and makes part of his being; — 
thai feeling which tells him, that man was never made to 
be the property of man ; but that, when through pride 
and insolence of power, one human creature dares to ty- 
rannize over another, it is a power usurped, and resist- 

30 ance is a duty ; — that feeling which tells him, that all 
power is delegated for the good, not for the injury of the 
people, and that when it is converted from the original 
purpose^ the compact is broken, and the right is to be re- 
sumed ; — that principle which, tells him, that resistance 

35 to power usurped is not merely a duty which he owes to 
himself and to his neighbour, but a duty which he owes 
to his God, in asserting and maintaining the rank which 
he gave him in the creation ! to tliLt common God, who, 
where he gives the form, of man, whatever may be the 



Ex. 117.] EXERCISES — PART II. 281 

40 complexion, gives also ihe feelings and the rights of 
man, — that principle, \a hich neither the rudeness of ig- 
norance can stifle, nor the enervation of refinement ex- 
tinguish ! — that principle, which makes it base for a man 
to suffer when he ought to act, which tending to preserve 

45 to the species the original designations of Providence, 
spurns at the arrogant distinctions of man, and vindicates 
the independent quality of his race 

The Majesty of Justice, in the eyes of Mr. Hastings, 
is a being of terrific horror — a dreadful idol, placed in 

50 the gloom of graves, accessible only to cringing suppli- 
cation, and which must be approached with offerings, 
and worshipped by sacrifice. The Majesty of Mr. Hast- 
ings is a being, whose decrees are written with blood, 
and whose oracles are at once secure and terrible. From 

55 such an idol I turn mine eves with horror — I turn them 
here to this dignified and high tribunal, where the Maj- 
esty of Justice really sits enthroned. Here I perceive 
the Majesty of Justice in her proper robes of truth and 
mercy — chaste and simple — accessible and patient — aw- 

60 ful wi'd'iout severity, — inquisitive, without meanness. I 
see her enthroned and sitting in judgment on a great 
and momentous cause, in which the happiness of mil- 
lions is involved. — Pardon me, my lords, if I presume 
to say, that in the decision of this great cause, you are 

65 to be envied, as well as venerated. You possess the 
highest distinction of the human character; for when 
you render your ultimate voice on this cause, illustrating 
the dignity of the ancestors from whom yon spring — jus- 
tifying the solemn asseveration which you make — -vindi- 

?0 eating the people of whom you are a part — and manifest- 
ing the intelligence of the times in which you live — you 
will do such an act of mercy, and blessing to man, as no 
men but yourselves are able to grant." 

On the conclusion of Mr. Sheridan's speech, the whole 

75 assembly, members, peers, and strangers, involuntarily 
joined in a tumult of applause, and adopted a mode of 
expressing their approbation, new and irregular in that 
house, by loudly and repeatedly clapping their hands. A 
motion was immediately made and carried for an ad- 

80 journment, that the members, who were in a state of de- 
lirious insensibility, from the talismanic influence of such 
powerful eloquence, might have time to collect theii 
24* 



282 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 117, 1 1 8. 

scattered senses for the exercise of a sober judgment. 
This motion was made by Mr. Pitt, who declared that 

85 this speech "surpassed all the eloquence of ancient and 
modern times, and possesses every thing that genius or 
art could furnish, to agitate and control the human 
mind." 

11 He has this day," said Mr. Burke, "surprised the 
thousands who hung with rapture on his accents, by such 

00 an array of talents, such an exhibition of capacity, such 
a display of powers, as are unparalleled in the annals of 
oratory ! a display that reflects the highest, honour upon 
himself — lustre upon letters — renown upon parliament — 
glory upon the country. Of all species of rhetoric, of 

95 every kind of eloquence that has been witnessed or re- 
corded, either in ancient or modern times : whatever 
the acuteness of the bar, the dignity of the senate, the 
solidity of the judgment seat, and the sacred morality 
of the pulpit, have hitherto furnished, nothing has sur- 

100 passed, nothing has equalled, what we have this day 
heard in Westminster-hail. No holy seer of religion, 
no sage, no statesman, no orator, no man of any literary 
description whatever, has come up, in the one instance, 
to the pure sentiments of morality; or, in the other, to 

105 that variety of knowledge, force of imagination, propriety 
and vivacity of allusion, beauty and elegance of diction, 
strength and copiousness of style, pathos and sublimity 
of conception, to Which we have this day listened with 
ardour and admiration. From poetry up to eloquence, 

110 there is not a species of composition of which a complete 
and perfect specimen might not from that single speech 
be culled and collected." 



Exercise 118. 
Spirit of the American Revolution, — Josiah GIuincy, Jr. 
Be not deceived, my countrymen. Believe not these 
venal hirelings, when they would cajole you by their sub- 
tilties into submission, or frighten you by their vapour- 
ings into compliance. When they strive to flatter you 
5 by the terms "moderation and prudence," tell them 
that calmness and deliberation are to guide the judge- 
ment; courage and intrepidity command the action. 
Whsn they endeavour to make us "perceive our inabii- 



Ex. 11S.J EXERCISES. PART II. 28b 

ityto oppose our mother country," let us boldly answer; 

10 — In defence of our civil and religious rights, we da"3 
oppose the world ; with the God of armies on our side, 
even the God who fought our fathers' battles, we fear not 
the hour of trial, though the hosts of our enemies should 
cover the field like locusts. If this be enthusiasm, we 

U will live and die enthusiasts. 

Blandishments will not fascinate us, nor \ HI threats 
of a V halter " intimidate. For, under God, we are de- 
termined, that wheresoever, whensoever, or howsoever 
we shall be called to make our exit, we will die freemen. 

20 Well do we know that all the regalia of this world can- 
not dignify the death of a villain, nor diminish the igno- 
miny, with which a slave shall quit existence. Neither 
can it taint the unblemished honour of a son of freedom, 
though he should make his departure on the already pre- 

25 pared gibbet, or be dragged to the newly-erected scaffold 
for execution. With the plaudits of his country, and 
what is more, the plaudits of his conscience, he will go 
off the stage. The history of his life his children shall 
venerate. The virtues of their sire shall excite their 

30 emulation. 

Who has the front to ask, Wherefore do you com- 
plain ? Who dares assert, that every thing worth living 
for is not lost, when a nation is enslaved ? Are not pen- 
sioners, stipendiaries, and salary-men, unknown before! 

35 hourly multiplying upon us, to riot in the spoils ofmisei* 
able America ? Does not every eastern gale waft us 
some new insect, even of that devouring kind, which eat 
up every green thing ? Is not the bread taken out of the 
children's mouths and given unto the dogs ? Are notour 

40 estates given to corrupt sycophants, without a design, cr 
even a pretence, of soliciting our assent ; and our lives 
put into the hands of those whose tender mercies are 
cruelties ? Has not an authority in a distant land, in the 
most public manner, proclaimed a right of disposing of 

45 the all of Americans? In short, what have we to lose? 
What have we to fear? Are not our distresses mo^e 
than we can bear? And, to finish all, are not our cities, 
in a time of profound peace, filled with standing armies, 
to preclude from us that last solace of the wretched — 10 

50 open their mouths in complaint, and send forth their 
cries in bitterness of heart ? 



284 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 118, 119 

But is there no ray of hope ? Is not Great Britain in- 
habited by the children of those renowned barons, who 
waded through seas of crimson gore to establish their 

55 liberty ? and will they not allow us, their fellow men, to 
enjoy that freedom which we claim from nature, which 
is confirmed by our constitution, and which they pretend 
so highly to value'? Were a tyrant to conquer us, the 
chains of slavery, when opposition should become use- 

50 less, might be supportable; but to be shackled by Eng- 
lishmen, — by our equals, — is not to be borne. By the 
sweat of our brow we earn the little we possess; from 
mature we derive the common rights of man ; and by 
charter we claim the liberties of Britons. Shall we, dare 

65 we, pusillanimously surrender our birthright? Is the 
obligation to our fathers discharged ? Is the debt we 
owe posterity paid? Answer me, thou coward, who 
hidest thyself in the hour of trial ! If there is no reward 
in this life, no prize of glory in the next, capable of ani- 

70 mating thy dastard soul, think and tremble, thou mis- 
creant ! at the whips and stripes thy master shall lash 
thee with, on earth, — and the flames and scorpions thy 
second master shall torment thee with hereafter ! 

Oh, my countrymen ! what will our children say, 

75 when they read the history of these times, should they 
find that we tamely gave away, without one noble strug- 
gle, the most invaluable of earthly blessings! As they 
drag the galling chain, will they not execrate us ? If we 
have any respect for things sacred, any regard to the 

80 dearest treasure on earth ; if we have one tender senti- 
ment for posterity ; if we would not be despised by the 
whole world ; — lei us, in the most open, solemn manner, 
and with determined fortitude, swear — We will die, if 
we cannot live freemen. 

85 While w r e have equity, justice, and God on our side, 
tyranny, spiritual or temporal, shall never ride trium- 
phant in a land inhabited by Englishmen. 

Exercise 119. 
America. — Phillips. 
I appeal to History ! Tell me, thou reverend chroni- 
cler of the grave, can all the illusions of ambition real- 
ized, can all the wealth of a universal commerce, can all 



Ex. i VJ] EXERCISES. FART II. 285 

the achievements of successful heroism, or all the estab- 
5 lishments of this world's wisdom, secure to empire the 
permanency of its possessions? Alasi Troy thouo-ht 
so once; yet the land of Priam lives only in song! 
Thebes thought so once; yet her hundred gates have 
crumbled, and her very tombs are but as the dust they 

i(j were vainly intended to commemorate! So thought 
Palmyra — where is she? So thought the countries of 
Demosthenes and the Spartan ; yet Leonidas is tram- 
pled by the timid slave, and Athens insulted by the ser- 
vile, mindless, and enervate Ottoman! In his hurried 

15 march, Time has but looked at their imagined immor- 
tality ; and all its vanities, from the palace to the tomb, 
have, with their ruins, erased the very impression of 
his footsteps ! The days of their glory are as if they had 
never been : and the island, that was then a speck, rude 

20 and neglected in the barren ocean, now rivals the 
ubiquity of their commerce, the glory of their arms, the 
fame of "heir philosophy, the eloquence of their senate, 
and the inspiration of their bards ! Who shall say, then, 
contemplating the past, that England, proud and potent 

25 as she appears, may not, one day, be what Athens is, 
and the young America yet soar to be what Athens 
was ! Who shall say, that, when the European column 
shall have mouldered, and the night of barbarism ob- 
scured its very ruins, that mighty continent may not 

30 emerge from the horizon, to rule, for its time, sovereign 
of the ascendant! * * # * 

Sir, it matters very hxii'e what immediate spot may 
have been the birthplace of such a man as Washing- 
ton. No people can claim, no country can appropriate 

35 him. The boon of Providence to the human race, his 
fame is eternity, and his residence creation. Though 
it was the defeat of our arms, and the disgrace of our 
policy, I almost bless the convulsion in which he had 
his origin. If the heavens thundered, and the earth 

40 rocked, yet, when the storm had passed, how pure was 
the climate that it cleared! how bright, in the brow of 
the firmament, was the planet which it revealed to us ! 
In the production of Washington, it does really appear 
as if Nature was endeavouring to improve upon herself, 

45 and that all the virtues of the ancient world were but so 
many studies preparatory to the patriot of the new. In 



£86 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 119, 120. 

dividual instances, no doubt, there were, splendid exem- 
plifications, of some singular qualification : Caesar was 
merciful, Scipio was continent, Hannibal was patient; 
'">0 but it was reserved for Washington to blend them all 
in one, and, like the lovely masterpiece of the Grecian 
artist, to exhibit, in one glow of associated beauty, the 
pride of every model, and the perfection of every mas- 
ter. As a general, he marshalled the peasant into a 
C5 veteran, and supplied by discipline the absence of expe- 
rience; as a statesman he enlarged the policy of the 
cabinet into the most comprehensive system of general 
advantage ; and such was the wisdom of his views, and 
the philosophy of his counsels, that, to the soldier and 
60 the statesman, he almost added the character of the 
sage! A conqueror, he w r as untainted with the crime 
of blood ; a revolutionist, he w r as free from any stain of 
treason ; for aggression commenced the contest, and 
his country called him to the command. Liberty un- 
do sheathed his sw r ord, necessity stained, victory returned 
it. If he had paused here, history might have doubted 
what station to assign him ; whether at the head of her 
citizens, or her soldiers, her heroes, or her patriots. But 
the last glorious act crowns his career, and banishes all 
70 hesitation. Who, like Washington, after having eman- 
cipated a hemisphere, resigned its crown, and preferred 
the retirement of domestic life to the adoration of a land 
he might be almost said to have created ! 

Happy, proud America ! The lightnings of heaven 
75 yielded to your philosophy ! The temptations of earth 
could not seduce your patriotism! 



Exercise 120. 

Patriotism of 1775. — Patrick Henry. 

Mr. Henry rose with a majesty unusual to him in an 
exordium, and with all that self-possession by which he 
was so invariably distinguished. " No man," he said, 
"thought more highly than he did of .he patriotism, as 
5 well as abilities, of the very worthy gentleman who had 
just addressed the house. But different men often saw 
the same subject in different lights; and, therefore, he 
hoped it w r ould not be thought disrespectful to those gen 



lS*r. 120.] EXERCISES.— PART II. 287 

tlemen, if, e Pertaining as he did, opinions of a character 

1) very opposite to theirs, h? should speak forth his senti- 
ments freely, and withoi.* reserve. This was no L ne 
for ceremony. The question before the house was one 
of awful moment to this country." He proceeded thus: 
" Mr. President — It is natural for man to indulge 

15 in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes 
against a painful truth; and listen to the song of that 
syren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part 
of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle 
for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of- 

20 those, who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear 
not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal 
salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it 
may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth ; to know 
the worst, and to provide for it. 

25 I have but one lamp, by which my feet are guided; 
and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way 
of judging of the future but by the p e ast. And, judging by 
the past, I wish to know what there has been in the con- 
duct of the British ministry, for the last ten years, to 

30 justify those hopes with which gentlemen have t^en 
pleased to solace themselves and the house? Is it that 
insidious smile, with which our petition has been lately 
received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to 
your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a 

35 kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our 
petition comports with those warlike preparations, which 
cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and 
armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? 
Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, 

40 that force must be called in to win back our love ? Let us 
not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements 
of war and subjugation — the last arguments to which 
kings resort. I ask gentleman, sir, what means this 
martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to sub- 

45 mission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible mo- 
tive for it ? Has Great Britain eny enemy, in this quar- 
ter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of 
navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are 
meant for us : they can be meant for no other. They 

50 are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains, 
which the British ministry have been so long forging. 



283 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 120. 

And what have we to oppose to them ? Shall we try 
argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last 
ten years. Have we any thing new to offer upon the 

55 subject? No;hing. We have held the subject up in 
every light of which it is capable ; but it has been all in 
vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and hurdle supplica- 
tion ? What terms sk 11 we find, which have not been, 
alreauy exhausted ? Let us not, I beseem you, sir, de- 

60 ceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done every thing 
that could be done, to avert the storm which is now 
coming on. We have petitioned ; we have remonstrat- 
ed ; we have supplicated ; we have prostrated ourselves 
before the throne, and have implored its interposition to 

65 arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and parlia- 
ment. Our petitions have been slighted ; our remon- 
strances have produced additional violence and insult: 
our supplications have been disregarded ; ( c ) and we 
have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the 

70 throne. In vain, after these tilings, may we indulge 
the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no 
longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free ; if we 
mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges, 
for which we have been so long contending ; if we mean 

75 not basely to abandon the noble struggle, in which we 
have been so long engaged, and which we have pledg- 
ed ourselves never to abandon, until the glorious object 
of our contest shall be obtained — ( ) we must fight ! 
I repeat it* — Sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms 

80 and to the God of hosts, is all that is left us. 
They tell us, sir, that we are weak — unable to cope 
with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we 
be stronger? Will it be the next_ week, or the next 
year ? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and 

85 when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? 
Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? 
Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by 
lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive 
phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us 

90 hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak, if we make a 
proper use of those means which the God of nature 
hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, 
armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a coun- 
try as that which we possess, are invincible by any force 

95 which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we 



Ex. 120, 121.] EXERCISES. PART II. 289 

95 shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God, 
who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will 
raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, 
sir, is not to the strong alone: it is to the vigilant, the 
active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. 

100 If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late 
to retire from the contest. There is no retreat, but in 
submission and slavery ! Our chains are forged. Their 
clanking maybe heard on the plains of Boston! ( ) The 
war is inevitable — and let it come ! — I repeat it, sir, let it 

105 come ! 

It is vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen 
may cry, peace, peace — but there is no peace. The war 
'is actually begun ! 

The next gale that sweeps from the north, will bring 
' 110 to our ears the clash of resounding arms ! Our breth- 
ren are already in the field ! Why stand we here idle ! 
What is it that gentlemen wish ? what would they have % 
Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at 
the price.of chains and slavery? ( Q ) Forbid it, Almighty 

1 15 God. — I know not what course others may take, but, as 
for me, give me liberty, or give me death /" 

He took his seat. No murmur of applause was heard. 
The effect was too deep. After the trance of a moment, 
several members started from their seats. The cry, " to 

120 arms," seemed to quiver on every lip, and gleam from 
every eye! Richard H. Lee arose and supported Mr. 
Henry, with his usual spirit and elegance. But his 
melody was lost amidst the agitations of that ocean, which 
the master spirit of the storm had lifted up on high, 

125 That supernatural voice still sounded in their ears and 
shivered along their arteries. They heard, in every 
pause, the cry of liberty or death. They became impa 
tient of speech — their souls were on fire for action. 



Exercise 121. 

The discontented pendulum. — Jane Taylor. 

An old clock that had stood for fifty years in a far- 
mer's kitchen, without giving its owner any cause oi 
complaint, early one summer's morning, before the family 
was stirring, suddenly stopped. Upon this, the dml- 

25 



290 EXERCISES/ PART II. [Ex. 121. 

5 plate (if we may credit the fable,) changed countenance 
with alarm ; the hands made a vain effort to continue 
their course; the wheels remained motionless with sur- 
prise ; the weights hung speechless ; each member felt 
disposed to lay the blame on the others. At length the 

10 dial instituted a formal inquiry as to the cause of the 
stagnation, when hands, wheels, weights, with one voice, 
} rotested their innocence. 

But now a faint tick was heard below from the pen- 
dulum, who thus spoke : — " I confess myself to be the 

15 sole cause of the stoppage! and I am willing, for the 
general satisfaction to assign say reasons. The truth 
is, that I am tired of ticking." Upon hearing this, the 
old clock became so enraged, that it was on the very 
point of striking. 

20 "Lazy wire!" exclaimed the dial plate, holding up 
its hands. " Very good!" replied the pendulum, u it is 
vastly easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as 
every body knows, set yourself up above me, — it is vastly 
easy for you, 1 say, to accuse other people of laziness ! 

25 You, who have had nothing to do all the days of your 
life, but to stare people in the face, and to amuse yourseL 
with watching all that goes on in the kitchen ! Think 
I beseech you, how you would like to be shut up for life 
in this dark closet, and to wag backwards and forwards, 

30 year after year, as I do." 

"As to that," said the dial, "is there not a window in 
your house, on purpose for you to look through ?" — " For 
all that," resumed the pendulum, " it is very dark here; 
and, although there is a window, I dare not stop, even 

35 for an instant, to look out at it. Besides, I am really tired 
of my way of life ; and if you wish, I'll tell you how 
I took this disgust at my employment. I happened this 
morning to be calculating how many times I should have 
to tick in the course of only the next twenty-four hours ; 

40 perhaps some of you, above there, can give me the exact 
sum." 

The minute hand, being quick at figures, presently re- 
plied, "Eighty-six thousand four hundred times." "Ex- 
actly so," replied the pendulum. " Well, I appeal to 

45 you all, if the very thought of this was not enough to 
fatigue one; and when I began to multiply the strokes 
of one day, by those of months and years, really it is no 



Ex. 121.] EXERCISES. PART II. 291 

wonder if I felt discouraged at the prospect ; so after a 
great deal of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I to myself, 

50 I'll stop.' 5 

The dial could scarcely keep its countenance during 
this harangue ; hut resuming its gravity, thus replied : 
" Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished that such 
a useful, industrious person as yourself, should have heen 

55 overcome by this sudden action. It is true, you have 
done a great deal of work in your time ; so have we all, 
and are likely to do ; which although it may fatigue us to 
think of, the question is, whether it will fatigue us to do. 
Would you now do me the favour to give about half a 

60 dozen strokes to illustrate my argument ?" 

The pendulum complied, and ticked six times in its 
usual pace. " Now," resumed the dial, " may I be al- 
lowed to inquire, if that exertion was at all fatiguing or 
disagreeable to you ?" " Not in the least," replied the 

65 pendulum, " it is not of six strokes that I complain, nor 
of sixty, but of millions." " Very good," replied the 
dial ; u but recollect that though you may think of a 
million strokes in an instant, you are required to execute 
but one ; and that, however often you may hereafter have 

70 to swing, a moment will always be given you to swing 
in." " That consideration staggers me, I confess," said 
the pendulum. " Then I hope," resumed the dial-plate, 
" we shall all immediately return to our duty ; for the 
maids will lie in bed if we stand idling thus." 

75 Upon this the w T eights, who had never been accused 
of light conduct, used all their influence in urging him 
to proceed ; when, as with one consent, the wheels began 
to turn, the hands began to move, the pendulum began 
to swing, and to its credit, ticked as loud as ever ; while 

80 a red beam of the rising sun that streamed through a 
hole in the kitchen, shining full upon the dial-plate, it 
brightened up, as if nothing had been the matter. 

When the farmer came down to breakfast that morn- 
ing, upon looking at the clock, he declared that his 

85 watch had gained half an hour in the night. 

MORAL. 

A celebrated modern writer says, " Take care of the 
minutes, and the hours will take care of themselves." 



292 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 121, 122. 

Tins is an admirable remark, and might be very season- 
ably recollected when we begin to be " weary in well- 

90 doing," from the thought of having much to do. The 
present moment is all w T e have to do with, in any sense : 
the past is irrecoverable, the future is uncertain; nor is 
it fair to burden one moment with the weight of the next 
Sufficient unto the moment is the trouble thereof. If we 

95 had to walk a hundred miles, we should still have to set 
but one step at a time, and this process continued, would 
infallibly bring us to our journey's end. Fatigue gene- 
rally begins, and is ahvays increased, by calculating in a 
minute the exertion of hours. 

100 Thus, in looking forward to future life, let us recol- 
lect that we have not to sustain all its toil, to endure all 
its sufferings, or encounter all its crosses at once. One 
moment comes laden with its own Utile burdens, then flies, 
and is succeeded by another no heavier than the last: — - 

105 if one could be borne, so can another and another. 

It seems easier to do right to-morrow than to-day, 
merely because we forget that when to-morrow comes, 
then will be now. Thus life passes with many, in reso- 
lutions for the future, which the present never fulfils. 

110 It }s not thus with those, who, "by patient continue 
ance in well-doing, seek for, glory, honour, and immor- 
tality." Day by day, minute by minute, they execute the 
appointed task, to which the requisite measure of time 
and strength is proportioned ; and thus, having worked 

115 while it was called day, they at length rest from their 
labours, and their works " follow them." Let us then, 
"whatever our hands find to do, do it with all our might, 
recollecting that now is the proper and accepted time." 



Exercise 122. 

Valedictory Hymn. — N. Adams. 

Sung by the Senior Class, at the close of the Anniversary Exercises in the 
Theological Seminary, Andover, Sept. 1829. 

1 Beautiful upon the mountains 
Are the messengers of peace, 
Publishing the news of pardon, 

Through a Saviour's righteousness ; 



Ex. 122, 123!] exercises. — part ii. 293 

Joyful tidings 
Of a Saviour's righteousness; 

2 Hark ! the voice of Jesus, calling, 

" Heralds of my Cross, arise ! 
Go and publish news of pardon ; 

See ! a world in ruin lies. 
Preach salvation, 
'Till I call you to the skies." 

3 Jesus, we obey thy summons, 

See thy servants waiting stand ; 
When our song of praise is ended, 
We will go at thy command. 

Great Redeemer ! 
Guide us by thine own right hand. 

4 Scenes of love and sacred friendship, 

We will bid you all farewell. 
O'er the earth's wide face we wander, 

News of Jesus' love to tell. 
We for ever 
Now mast part, and say, Farewell. 

5 Often have we joined these voices, 

In our songs of social praise, 
And around our altar bending, 

Prayer at morn and evening rais'd. 
We shall never 
Here again unite in praise. 

6 Brethren, may we meet together 

On the mount of God above ; 
Then our rapturous hosannas 

Will be full of Jesus' love. 
Saviour, bring us 
Safely to thy home above. 

Exercise 123. 
Scene from Pizarro....Pizarro and Gomez. — Kotzebue 

Piz. How now, Gomez, what bringest thou? 

Gbm. On yonder hill, among the palm trees, we have sur- 
prised an old Peruvian. Escape by flight he could not, aiKl 
we seized him unresisting. 

25* 



294 EXERCISES.- — PART II. [Ex. 123. 

Piz. Drag him before us. [Gomez leads in Orozembo.] 
What art thou, stranger? 

Oro. First tell me who is the captain of this band of rob- 
bers. 

Piz. Audacious! This insolence has sealed thy doom. 
Die thou shalt, gray headed ruffian. But first confess what 
thou knowest. 

Oro. I know that which thou hast just assured me o£ 
that I shall die. 

Piz. Less audacity might have preserved thy life. 

Oro. My life is as a withered tree, not worth preserving. 

Piz. Hear me, old man/ Even now we march against 
the Peruvian army. We know there is a secret path that 
leads to your strong hold among the rocks. Guide us to 
that, and name thy reward. If wealth be thy wish 

Oro. Ha, ha, ha! 

Piz. Dost thou despise my offer ? 

Oro. Yes, thee and thy offer ! Wealth ! I have the 
wealth of two gallant sons. I have stored in heaven the 
riches which repay good actions here ! and still my chiefest 
treasure do I wear about me. 

Piz. What is that % Inform me. 

Oro. I will, for thou canst never tear it from me. An 
unsullied conscience. 

Piz. I believe there is no other Peruvian who dares 
speak as thou dost. 

Oro. Would I could believe there is no other Spaniard 
who dares act as thou dost. 

Gom. Obdurate Pagan ! how numerous is your army ? 

Oro. Count the leaves of the forest. 

Gom. Which is the weakest part of your camp ? 

Oro. It is fortified on all sides by justice. 
' Gom. Where have you concealed your wives ana chil- 
dren? 

Oro. In the hearts of their husbands and fathers. 

Piz. Knowest thou Alonzo? 

Oro. Know him ! Alonzo ! Our nation's benefactor, the 
guardian angel of Peru ! 

Piz. By what has he merited that title ? 

Oro. By not resembling thee. 

Piz. Who is this Rolla, joined with Alonzo in com- 
mand? 

Oro. I will answer that, for I love to speak the hero's 



Ex. 123.J EXERCISES. PART II. 295 

name. Rolla, the kinsman of the king-, is the idol of our 
army. In war a tiger, in peace a lamb. Cora was once 
betrothed to him, but finding she preferred Alonzo, he re- 
signed his claim for Cora's happiness. 

Piz. Romantic savage ! I shall meet this Rolla soon. 

Oro. Thou hadst better not! the terrors of his noble eye 
would strike thee dead. 

Gom. Silence, or tremble ! 

Oro. Beardless robber! I never yet have learned to 
tremble before man — Why before thee, thou less than man ! 

Gom. Another word, audacious heathen, and I strike 1 

Oro. Strike, Christian! then boast among thy fellows, 
" I too, have murdered a Peruvian.' 7 



Second Scene. Sentinel, Rolla, omoI Alonzo. — Kotzebue. 
[Enter Rolla disguised as a monk.] 

Rolla. Inform me, friend, is Alonzo, the Peruvian, con- 
fined in this dungeon'? 

Sent. He is. 

Rolla. I must speak with him. 

Sent. You must not. 

Rolla. He is my friend. 

Sent. Not if he were your brother. 

Rolla. What is to be his fate ? 

Sent. He dies at sunrise. 

Rolla. Ha ! then I am come in time — 

Sent. lust to witness his death. 

Rolla. [Advancing toivards the door.] Soldier — I must 
speak with him. 

Sent. [Pushing him back with his gun.] Back ! Back ! 
•»t is impossible. 

Rolla. I do entreat you but for one moment. 

Sent. You entreat in vain— my orders are most strict. 

Rolla. Look on this wedge of massy gold ! Look on 
these precious gems. In thy land they will be wealth for 
thee and thine, beyond thy hope or wish. Take them, they 
are thine, let me but pass one moment with Alonzo. 

Sent Away! Wouldst thou corrupt me? Me, an old 
Castilian! 1 know my duty better. 

Rolla. Soldier ! hast thou a wife ? 

Sent. I have. 



296 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 123. 

Rolla. Hast thou children ? 

Sent. Four, honest, lovely boys. 

Rolla. Where didst thou leave them ? 

Sent. In my native village, in the very cot where I was 
born. 

Rolla. Dost thou love thy wife and children ? 

Sent. Do I love them ! God knows my heart, — I do. 

Rolla. Soldier! Imagine thou wert doomed to die a 
cruel death in a strange land — What would be thy last re- 
quest ? 

Sent. That some of my comrades should carry my dying 
blessing to my wife and children. 

Rolla. What if that comrade was at thy prison door, and 
should there be told, thy fellow soldier dies at sunrise, yet 
thou shalt not for a moment see him, nor shalt thou bear his 
dying blessing to his poor children, or his wretched wife — 
what wouldst thou think of him who thus could drive thy 
comrade from the door ? 

Sent. How? 

Rolla. Alonzo has a wife and child ; and I am come but 
to receive for her, and for her poor babe, the last blessing of 
my friend. 

Sent. Go in. [Exit Sentinel.] 

Rolla. [Calls.] Alonzo ! Alonzo ! 

[Enter Alonzo, speaking as he comes in.] 

Alon. How ! is my hour elapsed % Well, I am ready. 

Rolla. Alonzo, = — know me! 

Alon. Rolla ! O Rolla ! how didst thou pass the guard ? 

Rolla. There is not a moment to be lost in words. This 
disguise I tore from the dead body of a friar, as I passed our 
field of battle. It has gained me entrance to thy dungeon; 
now take it thou, and fly. 

Alon. And Rolla 

Rolla. Will remain here in thy place. 

Alon. And die for me ! No I Rather eternal tortures rack 
me. 

Rolla. I shall not die, Alonzo. It is thy life Pizarro 
seeks, not Rolla 1 s; and thy arm may soon deliver me from 
prison. Or, should it be otherwise, I am as a blighted tree 
in the desert ; nothing lives beneath my shelter. Thou art 
a husband and a father ; the being of a lovely wife and 
helpless infant depend upon thy life. Go ! go ! Alonzo, not 
to save thyself, but Cora, and thy child. 



Ex. 123, 124.] EXERCISES. PART II. 297 

Alon. Urge me not thus, my friend — I am prepared to 
die in peace. 

Holla. To die in peace ! devoting her you have sworn to 
live for, to madness, misery, and death ! 

Alon. Merciful heavens ! 

Rolla. If thou art yet irresolute, Alonzo — now mark me 
well. Thou knowest that Rolla never pledged his word 
and shrunk from its fulfilment Know then, if thou art 
proudly obstinate, thou shalt have the desperate triumph of 
seeing Rolla perish by thy side. 

Alon. O Rolla! you distract me! Wear you the robe, 
and though dreadful the necessity, we will strike down the 
guard, and force our passage. 

Rolla. What, the soldier on duty here % 

Alon. Yes, else seeing two, the alarm will be instant 
death. 

Rolla. For my nation's safety, I would not harm him, 
That soldier, mark me, is a man ! All are not men that 
wear the human form. He refused my prayers, refused my 
gold, denying to admit — till his own feelings bribed him. 1 
will not risk a hair of that man's head, to save my heart- 
strings from consuming fire. But haste ! A moment's fur- 
ther pause and all is lost. 

Alon, Rolla, 1 fear thy friendship drives me from honour 
and from right. 

Rolla. Did Rolla ever counsel dishonour to his friend? 
[Throwing the friar's garment over his shoulders.] There! 
conceal thy face — Now God be with thee. 



Exercise 124. 
God. — Translated from a Russian Ode by Derzhanir. 

1 O Thou Eternal One! whose presence bright, 
All space doth occupy. — All motion guide ; 
Unchanged through time's all devastating flight, 
Thou only God ! There is no God beside. 
Being above all beings ! Mighty One ! 
Whom none can comprehend, and none explore, 
Who fill' st existence with thyself alone ; 
Embracing all — supporting — ruling o'er — 
Being whom we call God — and know no more! 



298 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 124. 

2 A million torches lighted by thy hand, 
Wander unwearied through the blue abyss ; 
They own thy power, accomplish thy command, 
All gay with life, all eloquent with bliss : 

What shall we call them ? Piles of crystal light ? 
A glorious company of golden streams? 
Lamps of celestial ether, burning bright? 
Suds lighting systems with their joyous beams? 
But thou to these art as the noon to night. 

3 Yes ! as a drop of water in the sea, 
All this magnificence is lost in thee : — 

What are ten thousand worlds compared to Thee ? 
And what am i, then? Heaven's unnumbered host, 
Though multiplied by myriads, and arrayed 
In all the glory of sublimest thought, . 
Is but an atom in the balance weighed 
Against thy greatness — is a cipher brought 
Against infinity ! what am J then ? Nought ! 

4 Nought? — But the effluence of thy light divine 
Pervading worlds, hath reached my bosom too ; 
Yes, in my spirit doth thy spirit shine, 

As shines the sun-beam in a drop of dew. 

Nought? — But I live, and on hope's pinions fly, 

Eager towards thy presence ; for in thee 

I live, and breathe, and dwell ; aspiring high, 

Even to the throne of thy Divinity. 

I am, O God, and surely thou must be ! 

5 Thou art ! directing, guiding, all. Thou art ! 
Direct my understanding then to thee ; 
Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart ; 
Though but an atom 'midst immensity, 

Still I am something fashioned by thy hand! 
I hold a middle rank, 'twixt heaven and earth, 
On the last verge of being stand, 
Close to the realm where angels have their birth 
Just on the boundary of the spirit land ! 



ex. 125.j exercises. part ii. 299 

Exercise 125. 

The Dead Sea. — Croly. 

1 The wind blows chill across those gloomy waves ; — 

Oh ! how unlike the green and dancing main I 
The surge is foul, as if it rolled o'er graves ; 
Stranger, here lie the cities of the plain. 

2 Yes, on that plain, by wild waves covered now, 

Rose palace once, and sparkling pinnacle ; 
On pomp and spectacle beamed morning's glow, 
On pomp and festival the twilight fell. - 

3 Lovely and splendid all, — but Sodom's soul 

Was stained with blood, and pride, and perjury; 
Long warned, long spared, till her whole heart was foul, 
And fiery vengeance on its clouds came nigh. 

4 And still she mocked, and danced, and, taunting spoke 

Her sportive blasphemies against the Throne ; — 
It came ! — the thunder on her slumber broke : — 

God spake the word of wrath ! — Her dream was done. 

5 Yet, in her final night, amid her stood 

Immortal messengers ; and pausing Heaven, 
Pleaded with man, but she was quite imbued, 

Her last hour waned, she scorned to be forgiven! 

6 'Twas done ! — Down pour'd at one*/' he sulph'rous show'r, 

Down stooped, in flame, the heav n's red canopy. 
Oh ! for the arm of God, in that fier e hour ! — 
'T was vain, nor help of God or m m was nigh. 

7 They rush, they bound, they howl, tl emen of sin ; — 

Still stooped the cloud, still burst ti e thicker blaze ; 
The earthquake heaved ! — Then sani the hideous din ! 
Yon wave of darkness o'er their as ies strays. 

8 Paris ! thy soul is deeper dyed with Jood, 

And long, and blasphemous, has be ?n thy day; 
And. P^ris ! it were well for thee th .t flood, 
Or fire, could cleanse thy damning stains away. 



300 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 126 

Exercise 126. 

Nevj Missionary Hymn. 
S. F. SMITH. Theological Student, Andover. 

1 Yes, my native land, I love thee, 

All thy scenes I love them well, 
Friends, connexions, happy country ! 

Can I bid you all farewell 1 
Can I leave you — 
Far in heathen lands to dwell ? 

2 Home! thy joys are passing lovely ; 

Joys no stranger-heart can tell ! 
Happy home ! indeed I love thee ! 

Can I — can I say — Farewell ? 
Can I leave thee — 
Far in heathen lands to dwell ? 

3 Scenes of sacred peace and pleasure, 

Holy days and Sabbath bell, 
Richest, brightest, sweetest treasure ! 

Can I say a last farewell ? 
Can I leave you — 
Far in heathen lands to dwell ? 

4 Yes ! I hasten from you gladly, 

Fiom the scenes I loved so well! 
Far away, ye billows, bear me ; 

Lovely native land, farewell ! 
Pleased I leave thee — 
Far in heathen lands to dwell. 

5 In the deserts let me labour, 

On the mountains let me tell, 
How he died — the blessed Saviour — 

To redeem a world from hell ! 
Let. me hasten, 
Far in heathen lands to dwell. 

6 Bear me on, thou restless ocean ; 

Let the winds the canvass swell — • 
Heaves my heart with warm emotion, 

While I go far hence to dwell. 
Glad 1 bid thee, 
Native land ! — Farewell — Farewell \ 



APPENDIX. 



The reader, that he may understand the design of this Appendix, is 
rsquested to turn back to page 52, and review with care all the remarks 
that are made under the head of Quantity. Few persons are aware 
to what extent the power of any tolerable voice may be increased, 
by the habit of a slow, clear, distinct enunciation. To acquire this 
habit, the pupil must accustom himself, by efforts c ften repeated, to 
fill, and swell, and prolong the open vowels. This may be done by 
uttering the simple elementary sounds, a. e, &c. ? with great stress. 
But as vocal sounds are intended to con/ s y thoughts, and these single 
elements signify nothing, of themselves, the pvpa is reluctant to exert 
his voice upon them, with sufficient strength to answei the purpose. 
The different sounds of a, as heard in fate , far, war, he can utter, but 
te it do with his voice at full stretch is unnatural ; it seems to him more 
like barking, or bleating, than like elocution. "Whereas, let the sound 
to be made, be part of a word, and that word part of a sent/mce, — 
meaning something that ought to be uttered in a loud, full note, And the 
difficulty is surmounted with comparative ease. 

To accomplish this, is the purpose of the following exau? pies. In 
pronouncing them, the reader will remember that they are gen- 
erally taken from the language of military command; and/rom other 
cases in which the persons addressed are supposed to be a i some dis- 
tance from the speaker. The words printed in Italic, contain the 
vowel sounds on which the stress and quantity are to be laid. Imagine 
yourself to be speaking these words to those who are five or ten rods 
from you, and you will unavoidably acquire the habit of dwelling on 
the vowel with a slow, strong note. 

The sounds most favourable to the object of this exercise are those of 

in tube 

in turn 

i in noise 



a in fate 

a in hark 

a in fall 

a or ai in fare or air 

e in me 



-in men 

-in rise 

-m go 

-in move 

-in for 



-in loud 



The selections are arranged promiscuously, several of the vowel 
rounds sometimes occurring in the same example 

16 



302 



APPENDIX, 



EXAMPLES. 



1. Then take defiance, death, and mortal war. 

2. Haste I — to his ear the glad report convey, 

3. Stretch to the race ! — Away ! — Away! 
4 Let what I will, be fate. 

5. O Sdlyman ! — regardless chief! — Awake. 

6. Come, mighty Monarch, haste ! — the fortress gain. 

7. Wherefore, O Warriors ! make your promise vain ? 

8. Conquest aivaits you. Seize the glorious prize. 

9. " Haste! Let us storm the gates, 11 he said and flew. 

10. The cry was — " Tidings ! from the host,— 
" Of weight. — A messenger comes post." 

11. Arm, valiant chief! — F 'or fight prepare. 

12. " To arms! — To arms!" — A thousand voices cried. 

13. "Forbear! The field is mine" — he cries. 

14. " Who dares to fly from yonder swords" — he cries, 
" Who dares to tremble, by this weapon dies. 11 

15. Stand — Bayard ! — Stand ! — the steed obeyed. 

16. To arms ! The foemen storm the wall. 

17. War! War! — aloud with general voice they cry. 

18. Haste ! Pass the seas. Thy flying sails employ; 
Fly hence ! Begone ! 

19. *Tis death I seek ; but ere I yield to fate, 

I trust to crush thee with my falling weight. 

20. Him by his arms Rambaldo knows, and cries, 

u What seek' st thou here, or whither wouldst thou bend?" 

21. O cruel Tancred ! — cease ! — at last relent. 

22. " Speed Malise ! speed /" — he loudly cried, 
" The mustering place is Lanrick mead ; 
Speed forth the signal, Norman ! Speed /" 

23 Peace ! Peace ! — To other than to me, 
Thy words were evil augury. 






APPENDIX. 303 

24. Warriors attend ! survey this bloody sword. 

25. Wo to the traitor ! — wo ! 

26. On Bertram, then, he laid his hand, 

" Should every fiend to whom thou'rt sold 
Rise in thine aid, I keep mine hold. 
Arouse there ! Ho ! — take spear and sword ; 
Attack the murderer of your lord." 

27. " Ye Warriors brave! — attend my words," he said. 

28. With monarch's voice, " Go ! — and repent" he cried. 

29. Rise ! Rise ! — ye Citizens, your gates defend ; 
Behold the foe at hand. 

30. " Return ye Warriors I" thus aloud he cried. 

31. Fly Argillan ! Behold the morning mgh.. 

32. " What bring 7 st thou here . ? " — she cried. 

"Lo war and death I bring," the chief replied. 

33. Oh ! burst the bridge, and me alone expose. 

34. Still, still he breathes ; Our Tancred still survives. 

35. Hence! home, you idle creatures ! — get you home. 
You blocks, — you stones, — you worse than senseless 

things. 

36. Wo to the wretch who fails to rear, 
At this dread sign, his ready spear. 

37. u Up ! comrades up ! — in Rokeby's halls, 
Ne'or be it said our courage falls." 

38. Back! on your lives, ye menial pack. 

39. Boldly she spake, " Soldiers attend ! 
My father was the soldier's friend." 

40. " Revenge ! — Revenge /" — the Savons cried. 
41 Malcolm ! — come forth ! — and forth he came. 
42. " On ! On / " — was still his stern exclaim, 

" Confront the battery's jaws of flame ! 
Rush on the level gun ! 
My steel-clad Cuirassiers ! — advance ! 
Each Hulan, forward /—with his lance ! 



304 APPENDIX. 

My Guard ! — my chosen, — charge for France, 
France, and Napdleon" 

43. " Soldiers ! — stand firm, exclaimed the British chief, 
England shall tell the fight." 

44. The combat deepens, " On ye brave ! 
Who rush to glory or the grave." 

45. Burst the storm on Priccis' walls ! 
Rise ! or Greece forever falls. 

46. Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains 
Rise ! Fellow men ! — our country yet remains. 

47. Where was thine arm, O vengeance ? and thy rod v 
That smote the foes of Zion and of God 1 

48. Angels! and ministers of Grace ! defend us ; 
Save me, — and hover o'er me with your wings, 
Ye heavenly Guards ! 

49. " And do you now put on your best attire ? 
And do you now cull out a 1 oliday ? 
And do yon now strew jldwer? in his way, 
That comes in .riumph over Pompey's blood ? 
Begone /" 

50. Avauntl Fly thither whrr,ce thou fled'st; if from this 

hour, 
Within these hallowed limits thou appear, 
Back to the infernal pit I drag thee chained. 

51. And I heard an angel, flying through the midst of hea- 

ven, saying with a loud voice 
•' Wo, wo, wo, to the inhabitants of the earth." 

52. But God said unto him, " Thou fool ! — this night thy 

soul shall be required of thee." 

53. And he cried and said, " Father Abraham ! Have mer- 

cy upon me." 



O 1 i 



- 






.V <K< " 



&* it 






, " > 



*. * 







\ %,<? : 



<& 

% 






£ ^ 



*r 



I 













c> <<- 



N ^ 









A«V 



,y b<y 













*,T.>' 



*9 * 






^r*, 












,Oo 



f V 





















\/ 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Nov. 2007 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 



1 



.*- ' » * 


















y * .k * 






o N 



-c ^ 









<H X. 












A* v ° N C * ^C 



°, ""■ 






-» -£• 






"* V <p 






s* fl> 






,5 ^ 



,0 o 












^ <V O 






Oo 



* > 











*Je^^ 









